


Desperado

by thatmarvelchick



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sappy, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmarvelchick/pseuds/thatmarvelchick
Summary: It was hard to encapsulate the very idea of Guzma, in all that he was. Every ounce of him made a lasting impression on you.But you can always have too much of a good thing. Especially if it becomes harmful.





	1. Seven Bridges Road

Nowadays, it comes back to you in pieces. Partial fragments of a more innocent time.

The recollections of all the little moments you two shared stood the most prominent in your memory. The warmth of his gentle, yet rugged breaths against your neck as you slept. The feeling of the worn calluses on his hands; of which were always cold. But sometimes it’s the bad memories, too. You remember how his kindness turned to frustration. Then rage. And then you remember why things turned out the way they did, despite how hard you tried to convince yourself to forget.

You pushed it all to the back of your mind. You pushed _him_ to the back of your mind. You did your best to forget Guzma. But it was hard. It was hard to forget someone like _him;_ someone who sparked the largest shift in your perspective of life, and who influenced the biggest change in your heart.

He was one of a kind. But you weren’t.

Guzma was a piece of work. Literally. He was a pain in everyone’s ass and saying his name now left a bad taste in your mouth. But he was also a ‘piece of work’ in the way that he was… well, a masterpiece. No, not a masterpiece. That wasn’t doing him justice. He was incredible. He was extraordinary. It was hard to encapsulate the very idea of Guzma, in all that he was.

And then there was you.

You weren’t _that_ exceptional of a person. Not really. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t even that exceptional of a _trainer._ You were just, well… you.

Your story wasn’t anything crazy. You weren’t chosen by a legendary rainbow bird, nor did you save the world from turning into one big ocean/desolate desert wasteland, and you definitely didn’t become the champion of any region while in your preteens, either. You were an average, run-of-the-mill, gotta-catch-’em-all trainer. Vanilla. Forgettable.

Although, your standout personality trait was you had a short fuse. Sometimes it got you in trouble, but you just didn’t take shit. Unlike your peers, you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Nothing was handed to you, so you knew the value of things, of people.

That’s not saying you had anger issues, though. You definitely weren’t some mopey damsel-in-distress teenager whose emotions and hormones were out of check. You weren’t mousy. You weren’t ditzy. You had a sense of humor. You had substance to you. You weren’t just bound to the confines of an archetype. When you loved, you loved deeply. When you had true reasons to be sad, you cried deeply. No, you were not impressive, not a legend. But you had layers. You had a story, kind of.

You started your journey like anyone else. You were born and raised in Johto for the first 16 years of your life. You didn’t even leave your area - Cherrygrove City and its surrounding towns - until you were thirteen. That’s when you started your journey.

You had a good solid team, just like any other trainer. Your beloved starter who you raised from level 5, given to you personally by Professor Elm himself. The rest of your team received the same affection and training. You even collected all 8 Gym badges. You and your team barely waged through the Pokemon League, but never were able to beat the champion Lance. He kicked your ass every time. But hey - that’s part of the package deal of being a Pokemon trainer. Sometimes you lose and sometimes you win. But you did your best. And you were content with mediocrity.

That is, until you met Guzma.

-

Shortly before your 17th birthday, your mom surprised you with a plane ticket. Well, two, actually.

It was her decision to move to Alola. You’d seen it on TV commercials, and sometimes your friends would talk about how they would spend their summers off from school at their Alolan beach houses sipping virgin Pinap berry cocktails on the beach.

All you could think was, ‘ _if only’._ Your mom was a single mother who worked days and nights to support you. And you guys _barely_ scraped by. Luxuries like vacations or the newest electronics were the stuff of dreams. The closest you’d ever thought you’d get to Alola was by receiving a postcard.

Travelling wasn’t really your cup of tea, anyways. You loved it in Johto; you knew every cavern, every historical site, every monument like the back of your hand. Your bedroom shelves were crammed with old memorabilia; storybooks with dusty plastic covers, pictures from your journey, pamphlets from various tourist spots, your first game corner coins. Johto was your home.

Your mom, on the other hand, wasn’t as much of a homebody as you. She was tired of being cooped up, living her life from the sidelines with the same-old same-old of Johto. The second it was approved, she took a loan from the nearest PokeBank and you two were off. The first steps you took onto the ferry punctuated the beginning of the new life you were starting. 

And frankly, the way it started, it got off on the wrong foot. The beginning of your “new” Alolan life was you puking the whole week-long trip to the region.

Cool.

-

Alolan real estate was absolutely insane.

You thought your house back in Johto was expensive, but at least you had room to stand. Your house in Alola was just laughable. Your “bedroom” couldn’t fit a twin bed if it tried. It made Harry Potter’s staircase abode look good compared next to yours.

It’d been a month since you moved in. Your 17th birthday came and went. There was no big celebration; it was summertime, meaning no school, so you had… uh, no _friends_ to celebrate with. And you and your mom were in no position to be spending money on parties.

Your house smelled like saltwater, old wood, and perfume. Your mom had bought - yes, _bought_ \- a house on the beach. Small, yes, but functional in all the ways it needed to be. But she paid in full, so needless to say, funds were low right now. But your mom never once showed a sign of despondency. In fact, it seemed like she was at her peak. She talked big dreams of expanding the house later on once she got the money.

“Dinner!” You heard her call at you from the kitchen. You trudged over, your mom’s Cyndaquil nipping at your feet as you walked.

You plopped on the chair by the counter, watching your mother with tired eyes as she pulled a paper plate from the microwave.  

“Mmm, reheated fast food. My favorite.”

She threw a fry at you playfully, of which you failed to catch. Cyndaquil was quick to scarf it down on the floor. “Oh, puh-lease. I’ve been slaving over this for hours.”

You laughed lightly. “I can see that.” You caught the plate as she slid it to you across the table.

Your mom settled in her chair, pushing her hair back, letting out a content sigh. “So, honey… I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-huh?” You were half-listening, chewing your rather lukewarm burger nonchalantly.

“Alola has this neat little thing that they offer to trainers here. It’s called-”

“The island challenge. Yeah, I know, mom. It’s for, like, little kids. I’m 17.”

 

“Hey! Let me finish.” Your mom pointed a fry at you like an accusing finger. “You’ve been sitting in your room all day on your phone. Your Pokemon sit in their balls all day. They need to stretch their legs, their wings, their fins.” She took a quick bite of her fry, and twitched her brows. “Besides, I already signed you up. You’re meeting Professor Kukui tomorrow morning. So take a shower tonight.”

-

Your mom was right. You needed to get out of the house. You moved to Alola for a reason.

You lived right on the outskirts of Iki town, so it wasn’t that much of a walk. Your house was basically a shed. But it was right on the water and it was nice. Wingulls chirped all morning long, just like they did in Johto, so it was almost kinda homely.

On the way up, you crossed paths with two laughing kids. A tan-skinned boy with his frizzled black hair pulled into a bun, and a pale young girl who seemed to hide behind her sunhat.

“Lillie, look! Another trainer!” the boy jabbed at the girl next to him not-so-quietly. “Alola!” He waved at you with both his hands in a strange motion.

You faltered in your steps, but kept walking; however, you slowed your speed apprehensively as you grew closer to them. “Huh?”

The three of you stared at each other awkwardly as you ultimately stopped.

“Haha! I said ‘Alola’! You must not be from around here, huh?”

“...No, I’m from Johto. I just moved here, like, a month ago. _If_ that.”

The boy, who looked no older than 11 or 12, grinned excitedly. “Wow, so you’re far from home! I’m Hau, and this is Lillie! We’re on our island challenge! Actually, we’re about to start it. Er, I mean, I am. Lillie is just tagging along…” The little blonde girl beside him sheepishly waved at you.

 _Arceus, this kid talks a mile a minute,_ you thought, giving him a small nod as he talked, despite you barely being able to keep up with him. _People here are real quick to spill personal details to strangers, huh? I don’t recall people being that friendly to each other in Johto…_

You smiled at him as he mentioned the island challenge. “Oh, I’m doing the island challenge, too. I have to meet, ah… Professor Kukui. Something like that. I’m not late, right?”

“No, not at all!” Hau motioned for you to walk with them as he and Lillie began to start walking with them. You were in no position to be turning down friends right now, even if they were little kids. What harm could come from it? You kinda wanted to see how this would turn out, so you walked alongside them.

Hau continued talking about malasadas - the Alolan staple food - and Z-Moves, whatever those were, when he suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence. “Oh, by the way, what did you say your name was?”

-

Starting a Pokemon team from square one, you remembered, was difficult.

The Alolan starter you chose was more stubborn than you were. You two butted heads constantly. Though you nicknamed it, it hardly ever heeded its name. You were getting quite frustrated, though you knew that sweeping through the island challenge with an already-full-leveled team would defeat the purpose, so you sucked it up, and caught other members for your Pokemon team. While you and the starter got off on the wrong foot, at least your other team members were a bit more compliant.

It had been about a month or so since you started the challenge with Hau and Lillie. You had actually grown quite close; it kinda seemed like you were a big-sister figure of sorts for them. Hau had no siblings, and Lillie seemed to have put a wall between her and her family, so you three supported each other greatly.

Lillie had money to spend - how she got it, you weren’t sure - but nonetheless, she made sure the three of you were well accommodated. With her little debit card, you three were renting two rooms in a nearby motel on route 13 under Lillie’s, at least for the time being. You three were always moving. You and Lillie shared a room, and Hau, with his exceptionally large team, had a room all to himself.

 

You were sitting on Lillie’s bed, lightly prodding at Nebby’s… “face” with your forefinger ever so gently, earning little giggles from the Pokemon. You heard the showerhead creak and hiss as the running water turned off; not 5 minutes later, Lillie stepped out of the bathroom, clad in pajamas with a towel wrapped on her head.

“Hey,” she sheepishly approached, sitting beside you on her bed. It was then you noticed her plain white toothbrush in her hand as she pulled her knees up to her chest. “I know it’s kind of late, but…” Her tone was hesitant, and she avoided eye contact.

“Nah, what’s up?”

“We’re out of toothpaste, do you think you can stop at the Thrifty-Mart, um… please? I’ll give you some money, b-but you don’t have to go if you’re tired.” She seemed so burdened to be asking such a simple task. Nebby levitated over to her quickly, nestling itself under her arm, cooing softly, as if it had sensed her reluctance and wanted to comfort her.

You smiled at Lillie and couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You callin’ me broke?” Her bright green eyes widened at your response. Maybe because it was true... but still, you didn’t mind spending a little of your money for her. It was just toothpaste.

“Oh, no, no, I just-” She sputtered, but your abrupt laughter cut her off. “Lillie, it’s okay. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You put on some flip-flops and an old oversized denim jacket and were on your way out the door, wallet and hotel keys in hand, a diluted Pokeball in your sweatpant pocket. By law, all registered Pokemon trainers were required to carry at least one Pokemon with them when they stepped outside their residence.

It was nice to be by yourself for a bit. You weren’t that much older than Hau and Lillie; you were only 6 years their senior. But they were still kids, and so they still had childish attitudes, so having a few moments alone with your thoughts were moments savored.

As a flock of Pikipeks flew overhead, a wave of reminiscence flowed over you in an instant, and settled like a stone in your stomach, leaving you with an almost mourning feeling. At this time at night back home in Johto, it’d be Hoothoots flying above you, not Pikipeks. Fuck, man. You missed Johto. You missed the lighthouse in Olivine city. The oceans surrounding the Whirl Islands. You missed the taste of RageCandyBars. You missed your friends. That’s not saying Alola wasn’t great. The sights to see in Alola were breathtaking, to extent of which you never thought was possible. The people were so kind to each other; you could confuse strangers for friends here. But… It wasn’t the same. You missed home, still.

 

A little Chimecho tinkled above the automatic doors as you entered the store, and you tossed it a quick glance. You scoured the aisles for some toothpaste; you knew Lillie still secretly liked bubble-gum flavored toothpaste, specifically the one with the Lickitung on the box, because - and you quote - “it has whitening properties that other kid’s toothpastes don’t have”.

 _May as well pick up some snacks for Hau while I’m here,_ you figured, strolling to the snack aisle. You crouched down, looking at the bottom row, lined with various spicy chips, varying in degrees of heat. “Ah, shit. Which are the ones he likes? Was it… the Salandit spice ones? Or the flamethrower crisp ones? Uh…” You held the two bags of chips in your hands, examining the labels. _Fuck it, may as well get both._

Though you were humming softly over the soft music over the speakers, you still faintly heard the Chimecho jingle at the front of the store. You didn’t glance up right away, but when the sound of footsteps grew closer and the sudden smell of marijuana was overpowering, you looked up.

First of all, this dude was shirtless, and covered in tattoos. Both common Alola, but this dude was what your mom would call “athletically slim”. In other words, he didn’t have a six pack, and it was night time, so put on a fucking shirt, it’s cold, there’s no reason to be flaunting that around. Second of all, he was tall. Really tall. Probably over six feet - or at least he would be, but he kinda slouched.

His most striking feature, though, was his shaggy white locks and black undercut. No offense, but a fourth grader could dye their hair better than whoever did his.

“Excuse me.”

You quickly gathered your things and scrambled to your feet, stepping back.

The guy crouched down in front of the chips in one fluid motion. The keychain lanyard hanging from his pants pocket clinked against the ground obnoxiously. His pants were saggy - why was that still a trend? - so his boxers greeted you a hello. They were black, printed with bright yellow Joltiks.

Suddenly, your breath caught in your throat. You could see it there clear as day: a gun tucked in the back of his pants.

 _Oh my Arceus. Holy fucking Arceus._ You scurried to the back of the store where the clear refrigerated sections were. You tried not to make it seem obvious that you were freaked out, but you’d never seen a gun in real life before. And he was carrying it around like no big fucking deal.

With a trembling hand, you turned and pulled one of the clear doors open, pulling an organic Pinap berry juice from the row. (Spoiler alert - your friends were right, there’s nothing like sipping that shit on the beaches of Alola. Even if this was the cheaper version, not the same cocktails from their Instagram posts.)

You were still kind of freaked out. Your fingers were clamped around the juice bottle like an Ursaring trap. Did you call the police? Or did you just bite your tongue and hope nothing happened? Like, what the fuck were you supposed to do?

You glanced over your shoulder. The shirtless dude had disappeared from the aisle. Good-fucking-bye. You approached the register, where a less-than-awake employee started to ring you up. Letting out a shaky sigh, you pulled out your little wallet. “2050 yen.” the cashier mumbled.

You shakily unzipped the lips of your wallet; you were not the type to be easily intimidated. You were being uncharacteristically timid. But you did at least have a valid reason: discount Jack Frost back there was literally carrying around a gun, so…

You pulled out 1000 yen, laying the paper on the counter. You pulled out another 500. And then another 50. Then you realized your wallet was bone-dry. Who the fuck only carries around 1550 yen?

“Uh, that’s all I have. Just take out the PInap juice, it’s okay.”

“Okay.” He tapped the register screen, and turned around to face you. “1560 yen.”

Your expression dropped. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

The cashier shrugged. “I can hold it for you for a bit, and you can come back to get it once you get the money to pay for it.”

“Dude, it’s 10 yen. Why can’t you just let it slide?” Your fear was contorting into rage. “Because every time I ‘let something slide’, Chimecho tattles by pulling up the security footage to my boss-” he motioned to the Pokemon at the entrance - “-And I get written up. I don’t want to get fired, ma’am, so please lose the attitude.”

You slammed your hand on the counter and leaned in. “It’s 10 fucking yen! It’s not the end of the world!” Your voice raised with each word.

 

Both you and the cashier turned around when you heard someone clear their throat.

It was him.

“Can you guys hurry up? I got places to be.”

You looked at the tall man beside you, mortified. The cashier had a hint of irritability in his tone, “Look. I’m trying to handle this _disrespectful_ customer here. There’s a line for a reason, so both of you just calm down.”

The shirtless dude gave you an exasperated look. “Not gonna say it again. Figure this shit out. Y’all better hurry up.”

“Excuse me, _sir,_ I’m trying to finish my conversation with this customer-”

The man clicked his tongue and shook his head, obviously not having it. “A’ight, I’m done.”

Suddenly the man reached back behind him and swiftly put the gun on the counter, which clattered loudly as it made contact with the hard surface; the startling noise made you flinch. Then he had the nerve to then look at the cashier with a “watcha-gonna-do-about-it” look.

You stared at the firearm, frozen. You felt your heart pumping. Adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Well, at least it was for a second. Then Chimecho started practically screeching. Then it floated out of the automatic doors.

The cashier put his hands behind his head, and you just looked up at the dude next to you in utter fright. Shirtless dude picked up the gun from the counter, and slowly reached his arm out, pointing the weapon at the cashier. “Cash. Now.”

Then he looked at you, dead in the eye.

The cashier began to unload the register, but shirtless dude kept his dark gaze transfixed on you, staring at you through his full lashes, looking at you like a predator to prey. You almost shuddered, but you were practically paralyzed with fear. When the cashier put the money on the counter and backed up, the shirtless dude slipped his gun into the back of his saggy pants once more, and grabbed his bag of chips, the money from the register, and _your_ money off the counter.

“Fuck you lookin’ at? Get your shit ‘n go.”

It took you a second to process what he said.

Nonetheless, you swiped up the snacks, toothpaste, and your Pinap juice, and bolted out the fucking door.

-

You were shaken, but otherwise fine. You expected the police to cruise up to your door for questioning about the potential but they never did. Apparently, the front security cameras in the Thrifty-Mart were busted. And it’s not like the Chimecho could have helped the police out. So there was no proof of the cashier being robbed at gunpoint - or of you running out of the store without paying for a meager 2050 yen’s worth of snacks.

It’s like he knew he’d be off the hook.

You continued with your journey. You didn’t tell Lillie or Hau about that night for fear of scaring them.

But with a bit of prize money scraped from your battles, you bought a gun, too.

It was a small revolver that nestled snug in your purse. You bought it off the street. You didn’t intend on using it. This wasn’t about you wanting to get involved with bad things. It actually took a lot of careful consideration before you purchased it - you were worried that owning a firearm wouldn’t make you any better than that thug. But after that night, you’d just… _sleep better_ knowing you could better protect Lillie and Hau, and yourself, too, rather than depending on your precious Pokemon, for fear of them getting hurt at your expense. Pokemon are generally tough and can take a beating, but only in moderation. They’re not meant to brave a bullet.

But your journey continued, otherwise normal.

That is, until you returned to Malie Garden.

 

You told Lillie and Hau to stay back at the Pokemon Center when Kukui summoned you. You cautiously stepped up beside Professor Kukui, who was seemingly amused by the Team Skull grunts standing on the bridge. “You look quite pleased with yourself,” you whispered to him, and he gave you a shit-eating grin in response. You had to admit; those Team Skull losers _were_ kinda ridiculous, so of course the professor couldn’t help but poke fun at them.

But when a voice piped up behind the two grunts, both you and the professor were caught off-guard.

“You think you can beat down three Pokemon at once, huh, Professor?”

A face was put to the voice as a man stepped between the two grunts, and stood mere inches away from you and the professor.

The millisecond you laid eyes on him, you were evoked with that dreadingly familiar sensation of unease, anxiety, helplessness. Your eyes widened, and your lips parted slightly, agape as you softly gasped. The grip you had on the strap of your bag tightened for a moment as your heart began to pound.

It was like fucking Kill Bill sirens were going off in your head. At least he had a shirt on this time.

Having that said, your fear turned into anger in a matter of seconds. Why did this idiot think that what he was doing here was even remotely in the realm of being acceptable? You’d think that he’d know that causing trouble in broad daylight was asking for… well, more trouble. Some fucking nerve he had. You weren’t gonna be frozen this time. There was at least a dozen witnesses around, you had your Pokemon, and though you weren’t proud of it, your gun if you really needed it. He couldn’t do shit to hurt you.

“The hated boss who beats you down, down, down, and never lets up… Yeah, big bad Guzma is here!” He called out, arms outstretched like a shitty welcome as he gazed around at the people who were watching and whispering amongst themselves, some filming, others holding onto their loved ones fearfully.

“Oh, Arceus, come on.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. Was this some kind of prank? Who the fuck actually talks like that in real life? He was just as ridiculous as his little minions.

“Oh, and she speaks! Last time I saw you, you weren’t so _talkative_ .” Guzma spat, his tone lined with overzealous gratification. It was almost like he _knew_ speaking in a condescending manner would elicit an irritated reaction from you.

You felt your face get hot. You could see Kukui look at you from the corner of your eye; “You know this guy?” He queried softly, clearly puzzled. You didn’t avert eye contact from the crime boss - oh, if looks could kill.

“No, I don’t _know_ him. He’s just some asshole who thinks he’s tough.” You snapped, keeping a hand on a Pokeball defensively.

Guzma seemed to derive some sort of sick joy from being a prick. “Keep talkin’, sweetie. I’m sure someone will listen eventually.”

 _That’s it._ “Fuck off. You just flaunt your little gun around to get what you want. Bet that thing isn’t even loaded.” you snarled.

For a moment, he almost looked taken aback, but he didn’t really falter. “What, wanna see for yourself, broke bitch?” He took a step forward. Your face contorted with rage. You were fucking seeing red. Reactively, you threw your arms in front of yourself, shoving him back. “Get the fuck away from me.”

 

Kukui suddenly grabbed you by your wrist, pulling you back. He stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Guzma. The professor placed his hands on your shoulders, looking into your face with an unreadable expression; possibly because he was partly scared for your well-being, partly because he was confused on how you two knew each other, maybe because he had previous beef with the gang member… but regardless of the reasons, he was in protective mode.

The professor said your name twice, and shook his head, as if looking for his words, like they were lost in the heat of the previous altercation. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said lowly, his eyes written with clear concern.

You peered over his shoulder, where Guzma stood with his arms crossed, waiting expectantly. You looked back at the professor, letting out a sharp nasal exhale. “I’m not gonna let that… that… _jerk_ stand there like the self-righteous a-hole that he is.”

“Then settle this the _right_ way.”

You could have gagged. Sometimes, professors have a bit too much of the good-guy-neighborhood-hero complex.

Kukui turned around to face Guzma, giving him a beaming smile. “You think you’re the strongest trainer in all of the Alola islands? Then why don’t you battle her?” he stepped out of your way. “She’s come far in her island challenge, and she’s gotten quite strong-”

Guzma let out a flurry of sarcastic laughter. “ _Island challenge?_ That shit’s for little kids,” he hissed, his words stinging like daggers. But it’s not like you haven’t thought that same thing about the island challenge before.

“Okay, and your point is?” You asked rhetorically. “You can call it child’s play all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m gonna kick your ass.”

 

He sneered. “Bring it on, sweetheart. I’d love to see you try.”

“You will. And don’t call me that.”

“Oh, _my bad,_ babycakes. Then, pray tell, what _is_ your name?”

* * *

 

 _"Now I have loved you like a baby_  
_Like some lonesome child_  
_And I have loved you in a tame way_  
_And I have loved you wild_

  
_Sometimes there's a part of me_  
_Has to turn from here and go_  
_Running like a child from these warm stars_  
_Down the Seven Bridges Road"_

 _-_ seven bridges road, the eagles

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids I've been waiting a month for an account to post this  
> I know this chapter has been a little slow but you'll see more of Guzma next chapter and there will be s i n  
> shit will hit the fan eventually just wait and see (^:


	2. Life in the Fast Lane

It was a tough battle, but ultimately, it was your team that proved victorious.

When his Golisopod dropped to the ground, badly battered & far too exhausted to even stand, Guzma returned his trusted Pokemon bitterly. His knuckles were white, clenched tight around the Pokeball. It looked like he was gonna explode.

And explode he did.

“ _Guzma!_ What is _wrong_ with you?!” He roared, grabbing at his white locks with one hand belligerently. It was as if losing battles struck more than just his pride; like winning was _really_ that significant to him, like his life depended on it. But that’s not what Pokemon battles were about. It was about building a sturdy foundation of trust with your Pokemon. The thrill of the fight, and the win - or the loss - was only a small fraction of it.

You wanted to remark on his juvenile attitude, but bit your tongue for the moment. With your chin raised slightly, you returned your tired Pokemon, and diluted the ball so it’d fit in your pocket. You took a few steps forward, leaving about a foot of distance between the Team Skull leader and yourself. He let his arms fall to his sides, and you noticed that he seemed a bit out of breath.

Guzma was looking at you with a different, darker gaze. His eyes were glazed with a screen of seething rage. His stance was even different; his slouch was a bit straightened, his shoulders back, but his head was low.

 

He thought his outrageously edgy demeanor was intimidating. But in that moment of loss, you, and everyone in Malie Garden, could see through his relentlessly arrogant, ruffian facade like glass. “You done throwing your temper tantrum?” Your words tore through the tense silence like tin foil.

Guzma let out a sharp huff, and rolled his shoulders back, then crossed his arms. “A’ight, that’s it then. You beat me.”

Your brows twitched slightly, furrowing in confusion. Would he really roll over just like that? What kind of gang leader would truly accept defeat so easily? “I want you to give me my prize money, then get the hell out of Malie City.” You heard Kukui give a whoop, and you felt your face get hot. You’d never done anything like this before, and you felt a wave of self-consciousness rise over you. Arceus, was this what it was like to be a ‘hero’?

The man before you suddenly bore his usual condescending disposition. Being as surprisingly perceptive as he was, he smirked, apparently noticing your sudden unease. “A’ight, I gotcha money.” He dug in his back pocket; when his hand fell behind his back, you inhaled sharply, taking a staggering footstep back. Was he reaching for his gun?

No. He dropped a small amount of yen at your feet, and walked up to you so that you were just a few inches apart. Your head rose, looking up at him with trepidation utterly written across your forehead. Guzma just leered contemptuously at you. “Buy yourself somethin’ nice,” and then he said your name, the word rolling off his tongue like it was a foreign word. Hearing it come from him sure sounded like it.

But when he gave you a wink through his grin, you were even _more_ taken aback.

 

With that, he and his two little grunts bounded off with their heads high.

 

Kukui watched them leave, making sure they were well gone. A few spectators clapped for you, and you sheepishly scooped up the cash on the ground, counting it with care. It was crumpled, probably from sitting in his pocket.

1550 yen. It was then that you realized, this was the same money he stole from you yesterday.

Guzma was toying with you. It was possible he knew from the second you two met, he had the advantage of manipulating you through the means of using fear and vexation - to some degree. He was like a cat playing mouse. Rising to your feet, you shoved the money in your pocket haphazardly.

He won a battle of his own, it seemed.

-

If he wasn’t such a malicious, disgusting, sorry excuse of a human being, you realized that Guzma had potential to be _almost_ handsome.

Lillie was sound asleep in the bed beside yours, but you remained wide awake well into the waning hours of early morning. You replayed the scene in your head over and over again - the bliss of winning the battle, which was a satisfaction like no other; the way Guzma looked down at you, how close you were, the hungry look in his eyes; the way he said your name, each syllable spoken with such purpose.

You fell asleep lulled by the resonance of his voice, which remained embedded in your memory.

-

It seemed like trouble just followed you wherever you went. And Team Skull was synonym for trouble.

 

You couldn’t catch a break from them. It was no longer than 15 minutes after you completed your sixth trial and there they stood, in front of the entrance of the regal Aether House.

A new face of Team Skull was waiting for you at the door - Arceus, how many people were in their gang? She was athletic, and about the same height as you. Unlike Guzma, who walked around with a permanent smug look on his face, her expression was deadpan, and utterly grave.

“You the one who beat down Guzma?” She hissed lowly, taking a few steps forward. You furrowed your brows, and looked to Acerola, silently urging her to get behind you. “Don’t you look at her for help! I’m talkin’ to you.” the woman snapped at you, and you turned around.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?” You questioned agitatedly. You were quickly growing sick and tired of Team Skull riding up your ass all the time

The woman sneered indignantly. The grunt beside her had most of his face covered, but his eyes alone showed enough expression. His glaring eyes were lowly saturated, & full of hatred. They were a deep blue-gray, so bold in color that you could hardly tell where his pupils ended and his iris began. Even from this distance, the thousands of words that kid’s eyes screamed were so blatantly clear.

“Name’s Plumeria. I happen to be like a big sister to all these numbskulls.” Plumeria stepped forward towards you; you reactively began to step back. “I’m gonna get help,” Acerola whispered, and suddenly took off down the route, dashing to the nearest town, probably. Hopefully.

 

You stopped, letting her get close to you. “Listen, bitch.” Her tone was acrimonious, like she was some all-important person who was scolding you for your wrongdoings. “I dunno who you think you are. But mess wit’ one of us and you mess wit’ _all_ of us.”  

You were immobilized for a moment, suddenly uncharacteristically quiet as you searched your mind to choose your words carefully. You had to keep in mind, these people were not afraid to seriously injure someone. But that didn’t mean you still weren’t irritated. “...Look, I’m sorry, if, uh… if Guzma feels that raw about losing the battle, he should come and challenge me himself, not send his little sister to do his work.”

She chuckled, biting her lip, taking a step back to size you up. And it is within an instant that her boot made contact with your chest. You’re knocked downward, landing on the gravelly dirt with such force that the breath is torn from your lungs. Pain rippled across your abdomen, and you let out a hoarse groan in response.

Plumeria crouched down, grabbing you by your shirt collar. You winced, letting out a meek noise in pain. “You’re comin’ with us. Got it?” she hissed.

You gritted your teeth, your tremulous breathing filling the silence. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Over my dead body.”

Plumeria threw you back down on the ground; you let out another pained noise, and opened your eyes half-way to look up at her. You tried to stand up, but one of the grunts beside her needed only to put a boot on your chest and shove you back down. While the grunt stood with a foot on your chest, the Team Skull admin hacked back spit, and spat on you irately.

 

“Fuck you,” You rasped furiously at the insult.

“One way or another, you’re comin’ with us.” The woman snarled, and turned to the grunt next to her. “Get the kid.”

Once the weight was relieved off your chest, you shakily rose to your feet, wiping the wet mark off your cheek. You stumbled back, trying to step as far away from her as you could.

Over her shoulder, you saw the blue-haired grunt pulling Hau out of the Aether House.

“Hey! Lemme go! My Pokemon will tear you up!” He was shouting, but the grunt was holding him in an unrelentlessly taut grip. Once he made it down the stairs, the grunt tossed Hau on the ground, who was quick to bound to his feet. The grunt stood behind him, grabbing his arms.

Your eyes widened, and adrenaline took hold of you, overriding any fear and pain you previously felt. “Hau!” You cried, your voice hoarse. You tried to step forward, but Plumeria moved in your direction, blocking you. You gave her an exasperated look, glancing over her shoulder at Hau anxiously. “Look, he has nothing to do with this. He’s a _kid._ Let him go, and I’ll go with you wherever you want.”

Hau cried your name, grunting with effort as he tried to break free of the man’s grip. “Don’t do what they say!” He shouted. “Leave my friends alone!” Arceus, you could tell he was trying to sound brave, but his little voice crack gave him away. He was scared. He was so scared. It wasn’t fair.

Plumeria looked at you. For a moment, it looked like the corners of her mouth upturned into a smirk. But as quickly as it had appeared, it dissipated. “That’s more like it.”

 

You saw it happen like you were watching it happen from the outside. Plumeria struck your head with her fist, and it the second her knuckle made contact with your temple, your world was propelled into slow-motion as you fell to the ground. A black wave rose behind your eyes and a searing pain lit like a wildfire in your skull, and once you felt your consciousness slipping, you had nothing but a single wish that it would all soon be over.

-

_“...She’s still asleep....”_

_“...Not asleep…”_

_“...The boss said…”_

_“...No, I ain’t gonna…"_

 

When you opened your eyes, it took a moment for them to adjust to your dim surroundings. _Where the hell am I?_ A sudden flurry of panicked thoughts couldn’t register fast enough as an overwhelmingly dizzying fear stirred within you. You were now fully awake, trying to scan your surroundings; this was definitely the back of the van. It was probably the rough driving that woke you up. Two grunts were sitting across from you, falling silent as you awoke.

The handcuffs that restrained your hands behind you were put on extremely tightly, clipping the skin on your now-sore wrists. You grimaced, trying to sit up. The van suddenly screeched to a sharp halt, which flung you back against the seating again. Rain pattered on the top of the van like stones.

When the back doors were opened, you whipped your head around to look. A gust of frigid air spewed into the van quickly, and you shuddered.

The two grunts in the back of the van with you started to gather themselves and each grabbed you gruffly by your arms. They guided you roughly out of the van, forcing you to stand on your shaky two feet. Your breathing was erratic, for apprehension and fear ran rampant in your veins. Plumeria stood just in front of you, seemingly unbothered by the pouring rain. If you looked hard enough, she seemed to tremble from the cold, though.

“Come on. Guzma’s waitin’.” She said snippidly, turning on her heel sharply. As the guards nudged you forward, you stared up at the monument in amazement. An enormous wall, and within it, an entire town.

It was perhaps the most sinister thing you’d ever seen. The town was gray and monotonous, and extremely out of place for the likes of its inhabitants. Large, upscale homes and suites lined the sides of the town. They were posh, classy homes fit for ambassadors, celebrities, and uppity lawyers. Instead, they were filled with criminals.

It was eerily beautiful, in a way. They were large and expensive, you could tell, but they were overrun with wild ivy, bore broken windows, and were defaced with graffiti, which provided the town its only colors. You wondered, _How did they even kick the townspeople out of here?_

Team Skull members littered the streets around you. Some just glared at you silently, watching you as you walked. Others would spew insults your way. You just kept your eyes straight ahead, doing your best to try and devise a plan. _How am I gonna get out of this? How?_

You knew plotting was futile. You were in _their_ territory. You were a Blitzle in the Pyroar den. You were amongst the most thoroughly depraved part of the Alolan population.

 

Plumeria opened the doors to the enormous mansion that the four of you had been trekking to. As you stepped into its entryway, your shoulders significantly relaxed, and you let out a slow, shaky sigh. It was much warmer within the building.

The grunts let you go, and the doors creaked and groaned as they were shut. Plumeria tossed you a sidelong glance, and began to tread up the stairs. “This way.”

A female grunt waited for her atop the second floor. She handed Plumeria a towel, stained with splotches of bleach. Clearly, no one here knew how to do laundry properly, but at least they were making an effort.

As you reached a certain doorway, Plumeria paused in her tracks, turning around to face you and the grunts who had been ushering you. The admin gave them a curt nod, and one of them reached down, unlocking your handcuffs.

Slowly, as to not startle the volatile admin, you rose your hands to your waist, rubbing the raw skin on your wrists. “Thank you.” you mumbled almost inaudibly.

 

With another nod of her head, the grunts were off, and Plumeria handed you the towel she had thrown over her shoulder. Gratefully, you began to pat yourself dry from the rain in rapid-fire motions, trying not to let the cloth nor your hair cover your face. You wanted to keep an eye on her.

Without warning, she snatched the towel from you, and nonchalantly tossed it over the railing. You knew you were in no position to impose any complaints, so you merely clasped your hands and remained silent.

 

She chuckled. “Hmph. Boss is waitin’.” Plumeria slowly, intentively walked behind you, and placed her hands on your shoulders. You flinched, but didn’t move.

“You gonna bash my head on the door or something?” you said hoarsely. Fuck, her hands were so cold. She gave your tense shoulders a squeeze. “No. Now, open the door.”

You tentatively reached forward to twist the doorknob, but paused. “U-um… There’s no doorknob.”

“Yeah.”

Plumeria tore her hands from your shoulders and shoved you forward; you let out a startled cry as your body weight, being in so close proximity to the mouth of the entryway, pushed the door open as you fell. You collapsed onto the floor the new room, but managed to catch yourself by placing your hands before you just at the right time.

With a shaky gasp, you turned your head over your shoulder, looking up at her as she stood tall over you, her face clad with a devilish grin. “What the _hell?”_ You retorted heedlessly.

 

“Stop screamin’. And Plumes, stop pushin’ my prize around.”

 

Your breath hitched. You turned your head around to the direction of the voice, looking like a Deerling in headlights.

Guzma sat on a faded purple cushioned chair - a makeshift “throne" - that rested on a podium. There was an void of miserable silence seemed to swallow your voice whole as you stared up at him, completely transfixed. In it, there was a struggle, quietly writhing within you, as your voice scrambled in your throat but you couldn’t figure out any means possible to project your words.

He was the first to break eye contact, looking at Plumeria, who still stood tall behind you. “Plumes, mind givin’ us some privacy?” the gang leader said in a blase, almost uninterested manner. When you heard the door close, you pushed yourself to your feet shakily.

 

You gulped, and shakily inhaled as you spoke. “Did I hear you correctly?” you tried not to sound as afraid as you truly were. “Did you just call me your ‘prize’?”

Guzma stood, and stepped down from his throne, stepping relatively close to you. “That’s right.”

“That would imply that you won something in order to receive me. But,” you laughed wryly. “as I can recall, _you_ were the one who lost the battle. You’re just a loser by nature. Face it. You hold no jurisdiction over me.”

He reached out to touch you, but you stepped back reflexively. He grinned. “Ya boy thinks otherwise.”

You pressed your back against the door, quietly seething with rage. You looked over his shoulder, examining the room. Shelves were lined with opened, half-drunken bottles of soju and sake, the intoxicating smell filling the room quite pungently. There was a bong on his desk, and an incriminating pair of red panties slung over the king-sized mattress headboard like a trophy. Resting on the top part of the shelf, however, were 6 Pokeballs.

“Are those my Pokemon?” You gestured to the shelf. Guzma stepped closer to you, slowly. “Yeah.”

You let out a sharp huff. “What’s the point of even having me here? You’re wasting your time and resources, all because you lost a battle?”

He moved closer to you. Again. “Because I’m fuckin’ interested in ya. I know you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh, babygirl?”

You grimaced. “Don’t you even dare. Don’t call me that. Don’t get closer. Just… don’t.”

“Don’t what, you said?” Just to spite you, he moved closer.

You two were inches apart now. You were visibly trembling; your whole body, sore and bruised, was completely tense, your back pressed firmly against the door. “What do you want from me?” you said in a quiet tone.

Guzma slammed his hands to the sides of your shoulders, enclosing your body with his arms. You flinched, closing your eyes and turning your head to the side. “Stay away from me.”

He snickered softly in your ear. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt ya.” You felt him wrap his hand around your chin, turning your head to him.

He said your name. You opened your eyes slowly.

You were, for a moment, distracted by his cologne, cheap and overpowering enough to give you a headache. You were distracted by his face, expression entirely unreadable, his dark brown gaze fixed upon you like you were a piece of meat. You were distracted by the way he enunciated your name, his voice low & husky & atypically eloquent.

Guzma pressed his lips against yours, firmly, his hand continuing to squeeze your cheek.

If you were being honest to yourself, you were pretty into it at first. He was tall, dark, and handsome. You almost enjoyed it. But then your senses came to you - this dude was nuts. He had his little underlings essentially kidnap you. He was a thug. He was a ruthless, thieving, masochistic, criminally active thug.

You pushed him away, and he merely took a step back. “You callin’ me a bad kisser?” He wiped your lipstick from his lower lip with his knuckle, looking at you with those covetous eyes of his.

“N-no. Just… Stay away from me. You’re a creep.”

Guzma grinned. “You hit the nail right on the head, sweetheart.” He turned around, heading to the shelf. For a moment, you thought he was reaching for your Pokemon. Instead, he grabbed your purse, which was stowed behind your Pokeballs, out of your sight.

Your heart began pounding as he turned around, opening the clasp, revealing your revolver. “So, little girl likes guns, eh?”

 

You let the silence envelop you. You watched him as he walked over to his drawers, stowing the gun inside, then slamming it closed. He turned to face you again. “Get that red bottle of shochu off the shelf.”  
You had to register his command for a moment. Slowly shifting your feet, you made your way to the shelf. With shaky hands, you reached up and grasped the bottle by the neck, and handed it to him.

The Team Skull boss grabbed it from you briskly, and smashed the top of the neck on his dresser. You flinched, watching a bit of the broken glass fall to the floor. From the broken top, he began to take a heavy swig from the alcohol. After about a solid thirty seconds, he groaned contentedly, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. _Classy,_ you remarked inwardly.

Guzma handed the bottle to you. “Drink.”

“I’m 17. I can’t drink yet.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to. I’m telling you to. Now drink.”

You sat down on the edge of his bed, bottle in hand. You took a sniff of it nervously, and almost gagged. _Shit, that’s fucking strong._ You were scared of cutting your mouth on the broken top, but you didn’t really have a choice, did you? Slowly lifting it up to your mouth, you began to gingerly sip from the shochu. It burned as it ran down your throat, and you tore it away from your lips, coughing and gagging. “That’s fucking gross.”

“Damn. You really are 17, ain’t ya?” He sat down next to you. You glanced at him, and scooted away a bit. “Obviously.”

“Drink more.”

“No. It’s fucking nasty.”

“It gets better.”

Not wanting to get into any more conflict, you obediently began to drink more of the bottle. You closed your eyes tightly, trying not to retch. _How do people even get addicted to this shit?_

But nonetheless, he had a point. The more breaks you took inbetween chugs, gasping for air, it became easier to swallow, and the burning sensation that coated your throat turned into a buzzing numbness.

 

“Alrightalright that’s enough,” Guzma ripped the bottle from your hands; you had left probably only a sixth of the liquid left. He downed the rest no sweat, tossing the bottle to a nearby wastebasket. The bottle clunked on the rim of the basket and clattered on the floor.

“Yuh missed,” you slurred, leaning over to motion to the basket. Guzma turned to face you, cocking his head to the side with an indignant expression. “Ya think?”

You stood up abruptly, swaying on your feet. “Look,” you said gruffly, sniffing sharply. “I don’t… You’re a… ffffucking asshole.” you watched him as he stood. “How old are you dude? You’re like….. 13. You act like you’re a-” you hiccuped. “-fffuckin’.... child. You’re _awwwwful._ ”

Guzma stood, gently grabbing you by your hands, guiding you back to the bed. “I’m 24, sweetheart… And you are _dummy_ hammered, by the way,” he laughed fully.

You felt quite ill; you undershot the bed a little, and instead of collapsing on the springy mattress, you found yourself on the floor. With a frustrated groan, head pounding, you pulled yourself up. Guzma watched you with interest, like a Purrloin examining a wandering Fletchling.

You sat on your knees, propping your elbows on the edge of the bed, resting your head on your forearms. “Why did I fuckin’..... even _listen_ to you? Like… How long are you gonna… keep me here?” your state of mind was lying comfortably between consciousness and rest. You felt like going to sleep where you were. Your head bobbed over, and you looked up at the gang leader with droopy eyelids.

The man gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s see how you behave, doll. Ya gotta learn your lesson.”

“Mmm-ohhh. What’s my lesson? I didn’t do _shhhit_ to you.”

He beckoned you over, twiddling his forefinger in a ‘come here’ motion.

 

You crawled over, positioned between his legs. As he tried to stand, he put his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back down. “No. Stay like that.” Guzma looked at you, planting his hand under your chin. With big, confused eyes, you stared up at him.

“Undo my belt.”

Confused, but compliant, you slowly moved your hands to his waist. “Fuck, how do I-?” You fumbled with it for a moment, but after a minute or two of fruitlessly struggling, he muttered ‘fuck it’ and stood up, unclasping his belt with ease, letting his baggy black pants drop to the floor.

Though drunk and out of it, you still had a small amount of good judgement in the back of your mind, but good judgement all the same. You put two and two together, and looked up at Guzma again, furrowing your brows. “What do you think… you’re doin’?” you queried drunkenly.

“Pull my boxers off.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do. C’mon.”

 

You inhaled deeply, staring at the slightly protruding growth in his boxers. You pulled them down, slowly, and looked up at him bitterly. You rubbed your eye with your knuckle tiredly, and he looked at you expectantly. “Well?”

With another breath, you adjusted your position. You leaned forward, wrapping your hand gently around the shaft of his member, and placed your mouth on the head. Was this what you were supposed to do? You looked up at him once more, your eyes questioning. He put a hand in your hair. _Guess that means I’m doing okay._

At a slow pace, you tried to take more of him in your mouth. You earned yourself a moan on his part, which was a nice stroke to your ego.

Bobbing your head slowly, after a few minutes you kind of felt bored with this. Plus, your jaw was growing to be quite tired from being slack.

It seemed evident that Guzma caught on to your slowing speed. Grasping your hair more firmly, he pushed your head down further than what you were comfortable with. Reactively, you choked, which just made him emit a languid laugh. “Relax.”

 _How am I supposed to relax?_ You tried to listen to him, but he was moving your head up and down quite fast, which was taking quite a toll on your throat. You tried to move along with his rhythm, but found it remarkably difficult. You pushed up against his pressure, tearing your mouth away from his member to breathe. Your eyes were stinging red with tears, and you were more than positive that your undereyes were smeared from wet mascara. You were taking deep, gasping inhales, coughing slightly, trying not to sob. Removing your hand from his thigh, you wiped your eye with your wrist, and wiped the slick from your mouth.

“Hold on. Let me catch my bre… my breath.” You coughed into your sleeve. Turning your head once more, you let out a shaky exhale, and leaned forward again. Now that his cock was slick, it made it easier on you. Guzma husked various iterations of swear words, usually followed by carnal moans.

It kind of seemed like you were getting the hang of it, however sloppy and amateur it may be.

 

Without warning, Guzma pulled himself out of your mouth, and you looked up at him skeptically. He tossed you a wink as he stood, making a beeline to the restroom. “Since I’m a gentleman, I ain’t gonna cum in front of ya or in ya or nothin’ just yet. I’m sure you’ll thank me later. By the way, ya head game’s strong. You sure that was your first time?” he laughed at his own joke. With that, the bathroom door closed, and you were left sitting on the floor by the edge of his bed, staring at the space he left behind.

_What an asshole._

You crawled over to the wastebasket after a moment, overcome with sickness. You vomited into the plastic bag that lined the trash can, hacking and dry heaving quite harshly afterward. Not only did you down alcohol for the first time - more than your meek frame could handle at one time, at that - but your throat was so sore.

You let out a pathetic groan.

-

_God, my neck is so sore._

You opened your eyes slowly.

_And my head. Fuck._

Your head was pounding as if it had its own turbulent heartbeat. _The fuck are the lights so bright for?_ You looked around. _Am I in a fuckin’ bathroom?_

Lifting your head from the edge of the tub you were resting against, you lifted your hand to rub your neck, letting out a pained grunt. Squinting your eyes, you looked down at yourself - your shirt was missing, bizarrely enough. Thankfully, you were still clad in your bra. You examined the rest of your body; your shoes were missing, your jeans were half-unzipped, and your opposite hand was handcuffed to the foot of a clawfoot tub. _The fuck?_

You tried to recollect the events of last night. You remember bickering with Guzma, him kissing you, and him ordering you to get drunk off your ass, which you did. You remember him practically forcing you to execute a particularly rough blowjob. But you didn’t remember passing out handcuffed to a luxurious bathtub half-naked.

 

“Guzma,” you called out weakly, because, frankly, what else were you supposed to do? Wait for someone to barge in here with their fly down?

You repeated his name a second time before you heard feet shuffling, and heard the doorknob rattle. The door opened, and there he stood, shirtless, clad in baggy plaid pajama pants (which seemed to be his staple look, honestly).

“What am I doing here, man? What happened to my shirt?”

Guzma yawned, running a hand through his wavy locks. “Hold on.” He exited the bathroom, and you heard him rummaging over in his bedroom. When he came back, key in hand, you tensed up slightly. He crouched down beside you, unlocking your hand from the cuffs.

“Thanks,” you muttered, scooching away from him as he sat beside you against the tub.

“So ya really don’t remember last night?” he murmured in an evidently tired voice. You couldn’t  help but find his half-awake voice sort of… endearing.

“No. Would you care to enlighten me?” You snapped bitterly, despite your enamored thoughts.

“Well, you decided to get hella wasted-”

“Correction, _you made me_ drink. And I already know this part.”

“...So, ya went down on me-”

“Yeah, I know that. Continue.”

“Will you let me tell you what fuckin’ happened? Arceus,” he retorted groggily. “So, anyways, I went in here to jack off ‘n shit ‘cuz I didn’t wanna just bust in your mouth or nothin’ without warnin’ you first. So I came back and you were on my floor, hunched over the bed. So I scooped you up and put you on the bed, ‘n you kinda grabbed me in a ‘don’t leave' type of way.” He scratched the back of his head. “So I got in bed wit’ you and let nature take its course ‘n shit. Afterward, you rolled outta bed and passed out in here, ‘n I handcuffed you ‘case you got any funny ideas.”

You stared at him, relatively appalled at what you were hearing. “What does that mean?”

“Hey, don’t get all pissy with me. It was _your_ idea, sweetheart. You grabbed at me, pulled me on top of you, ‘n took off your shirt, and you told me specifically what to-”

“Guzma, I was… I was drunk.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you said you wanted it, ‘n I obliged. I didn’t bust in you though, it’s all good.”

You gawked at him in disbelief. “Do you expect a fucking thank-you?” You didn’t know if you were overcome with anger, confusion, or relief.

He shushed you softly, placing his hand on your thigh. “Stop,” you pushed his hand away, scooting further.

“Hey,” his tone was soft, as if trying to console you. The gang leader moved in front of you, putting his hand on your shoulders. You averted eye contact, trying to swat his hands away. Guzma cupped your chin and turned you to face him, just as he did last night.  
  
“Know why I’m so interested in you? It’s ‘cuz of the way ya looked at me, and the kinda person you are. It’s been drivin’ me crazy. You’re pretty, ‘n you gotta smart mouth but I think that’s kinda cute. I know I ain’t the nicest guy but I can’t get you outta my head. Sorry if I scared you before.”

His tone sounded almost _austere,_ as if this had been practiced before. But… traces of sincerity _were_ lined in his words, and his eyes (Arceus, those beautiful eyes) looked so genuine & true.

You placed your hand on top of his, closing your eyes, letting out a curt sigh. “But that’s the thing,” you said softly. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about you a lot too, but… It’s like… you’re…”

“Bad for you, I know.” He finished the sentence for you, and you opened your eyes to look at him again.

“Precisely that. You’re an actual, _actual_ stranger. I hardly know you.”

“But I feel like I know _you._ ”

You laughed dryly. “Trust me, you don’t. And you don’t want to.”

“Yes, I do.”

Your laughter stops.

-

You spend the next week in Po Town.

You’re still extremely apprehensive, but Guzma was extremely persuasive. Between picking flowers for you outside (and breaking a grunt’s nose who mocked him for it), and getting wasted every other night, you two seemed unconventionally well for each other.

Of course, you still snapped at him and liked your distance. After all, a week and two days is not ample time to develop trust with someone, especially if that person was the self-proclaimed “big-and-bad” leader of Team Skull. Although, you had to hand it to him, he was, um, _big_ in more ways than one.

You awoke one morning to Guzma hunched over his desk. You rubbed your eyes, stretching out indulgently like a Skitty in the morning sun. Slipping out of bed quietly, you curiously went over, rubbing his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. He looked up, grasping your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss.

“Here. Try this.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose and stepping out of the way of his seat.

You sat down, examining the contents on the table. Four little white lines, even in shape and length, milled down to an extremely fine powder.

“Is that cocaine?” you furrowed your brows, leaning down to get a closer look.

“Yeah. I want you to try it.”

 

You looked at him, puzzled, as if he was speaking another language. “I’m sorry, _what?_ I don’t do drugs, G. Sorry.”

As you tried to stand, he moved behind you, gently pushing you down in the seat. “Guzma.”

He bent down, kissing your cheek. “Look, babygirl, just try it, ‘n if you don’t like it, you don’t have to even look at it ever again.”

 _Don’t have much of a choice… again._ You took a deep breath, looking down at the table. You were still half-awake. It was too early in the morning for his shit. “What do I do?”

“Just close one nostril… Here, like this.” He guided your hands, pressing one of your fingers against your left nostril. “And just lean down and sniff it really quick along the line, real deep.”

 

Guzma stepped away, letting you try. You closed your eyes as you bent down, snorting the coke quickly. It burned the _hell_ out of your nostril, and you careened back in your seat, holding your nose in pain.

For a moment, you felt very dizzy, as if you were projected out of your body. It was a complacent feeling, leaving you with a warm buzz.

As quickly as it came, the feeling went away, and you were left back in your groggy state.

You looked up at Guzma naively, rubbing your nose.

You bent down to do another line.

* * *

 

 _"He was a hard-headed man he was brutally handsome_  
_And she was terminally pretty_  
_She held him up and he held her for ransom_  
_In the heart of the cold, cold city_  
_He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude_  
_They said he was ruthless said he was crude_  
_They had one thing in common: they were good in bed_  
_She'd say, "Faster, faster. "The lights are turning red."_

 _Eager for action and hot for the game_  
_The coming attraction, the drop of a name_  
_They knew all the right people; They took all the right pills_  
_They threw outrageous parties; They paid heavenly bills_  
_There were lines on the mirror, lines on her face_  
_She pretended not to notice she was caught up in the race"_

-life in the fast lane, the eagles

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahHAHhah and thus begins the development of reader's toxic habits
> 
> i'm really bad at writing smut i'm sOrRy but next chapter will contain significantly more 
> 
> the next chapter is gonna be my favorite to write because you will see the extent of guzma's negative influence on reader.  
> thank you for your support!


	3. New Kid in Town

Guzma gave you ½ an ounce of cocaine and a kiss goodbye when you finally made the decision to leave Po Town. He slipped his number in your back pocket as you walked out the front gates, saying he’d answer your call in a heartbeat, and that he was _expecting_ a call from you.

When Hau and Lillie saw you again when you returned in Malie City, they both burst out crying.

“I thought that Guzma had hurt you or something!” Hau sobbed, latching onto you as he wrapped you in a tight embrace as if you were a soldier returning home.

“I was hiding inside the house with the Aether kids when they t-took you… I’m sorry I didn’t do anything,” Lillie wept softly, wiping her eyes daintily.

“You guys, please don’t cry.” You sat them down in the Pokemon Center rec area, snatching a tissue box off one of the tables and handing it to Lillie as she sat. You crouched in front of them, holding one of their hands each. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m a tough cookie, don’t worry. Come on, let me see those smiles.” You let go of Hau’s hand, reaching over to tickle his stomach.

“H-hey!” He laughed between stifled sobs, and Lillie in turn began to laugh as well.

You let out a contented sigh. “I love you guys. I promise I’m okay.”

-

The truth was, you weren’t okay. You were ridiculously, hilariously subdued. But they were kids - you needed to tell them what they wanted to hear.  For fuck’s sake, you were ditching training sessions with them so you could go get high off cocaine in secret. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You needed more and more. But you ran out of that half ounce quickly.

Oh, and there was also the fact that you were falling for the leader of Team Skull.

That night, you had to leave the room while Lillie was asleep because you simply couldn’t keep your tears sheathed any longer.

You sat on the steps of the motel, sobbing profusely. How fucking _stupid_ could you be? You knew you were falling for him, and you couldn’t justify a good reason for it. _Guzma,_ of all people. Something about him enraptured you. You knew it was toxic but you were doing _nothing_ to stop it. You wanted to see him again. _Desperately._

At this point, the taste of tears in your mouth seemed almost nostalgic.

-

You meet another trainer along the way. His name is Sun - he’s the same age as Hau and Lillie, although he doesn’t act like it. He’s quiet, and rather unexpressive. He bore astounding maturity for his age - which is why you left him in charge of Hau and Lillie.  
You told them you were taking a break from your island challenge to spend some time at home and prepare for school, which was starting in a few short weeks. Lillie had completed her schooling for the year with an online independent study program, and Hau was homeschooled, so rotting away in a public school for 8 hours a day was a misery they were privileged to not experience. As for Sun, well… you didn’t know, and you didn’t really care to ask.

However, you were lying straight through your teeth. Guzma called you unexpectedly one day, and he told you to pack a bag. So you filled up a duffel bag with clothes, potions, and other necessities without question. You almost couldn’t believe you were deliberately putting your trials on hold for _him._

When you spotted the sickeningly familiar van approaching over the sandy horizon, you realized you had approximately 60 seconds to rethink your decision. You could totally book it into Haina desert and hide from those weirdos. Or, alternatively, you could… stay and wait to see what happens.

When the van slammed on the breaks in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but scurry down the steps excitedly. This was a risk. But you liked risks.

Your expression fell when instead of Guzma, Plumeria stepped out of the driver’s side. You slowed your steps, and gave her a coy wave. “Um, hey.” You forced a smile.

She scoffed. “Don’t try and play nice, okay? Just get in the van.” She walked back into the van, and you sat in the passenger’s seat passively. _Nice to see you, too,_ you thought begrudgingly, tossing the admin a sour side glance. _It’s gonna be a long ride._

When you finally drove up to the inside of Po Town and parked in front of the mansion, Guzma was waiting for you on the front steps. You hopped out of the car fervidly, heart pounding relentlessly. You couldn’t exactly justify it, but you were filled with joy upon laying eyes on him.

You collided with him in an instant, wrapping him in a tight hug and laughing wholesomely into his chest. “I missed you,” You looked up at him, your smile wide. He leaned down and kissed your forehead gently; “I missed you too.”

 

Like a gentleman (almost, I mean, it’s _Guzma,_ how much of a gentleman can he be), he took your duffel bag, pretending to crumple beneath its weight. “Arceus, sweetheart, how much did you pack?” He grunted, dragging it along.

“There’s no way it’s that heavy,” you giggled softly. He grinned at you with a wink, “Nah, ‘course not. I’m strong.” he slung the bag over his shoulder and led you up the steps to his bedroom.

It was considerably cleaner than it was when you left. The floors seemed vacuumed, his bed was tidy, and the shelves of scattered alcohol were… _relatively_ organized. You dropped your bag on the floor beside his dresser, and hopped up on his desk, swinging your legs slightly. “So what do you wanna do?” you asked, watching him as he moved across his room in a few steps, taking off his shirt as he walked, carelessly tossing it on the floor.

As he approached his closet, digging around aimlessly for a clean shirt, he gave you a quick glance. “Do? I wanna do _you,_ ” the gang leader said nonchalantly.

You merely snorted in response. “Nice try, buddy.” you smirked at him as he turned around, his expression rather distraught. “Aw, c’mon, babe! I was serious,” he threw a sock at you; you needed only to angle your torso slightly to the left to dodge it.

“Throwing your laundry at me is no way to get me to fuck you,” you tutted, propping yourself off of his desk, strolling over to him with a playful glint in your eye. Standing on your tiptoes, you placed your hands tenderly upon his bare shoulders, tilting your head to give him a kiss. He placed a hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

Guzma broke the kiss, bending down slightly to pick you up by your legs. “Hey!” you stammered in surprise, a bit startled as he suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder.

He dropped you on the bed, not wasting a moment as he climbed over you. You clasped your arms around the back of his neck loosely, and propped your legs up, giving him ample room to move his pelvis against yours. “Let’s get this shirt offa’ you, yeah?” He supplied you with his signature cheeky grin, and you gave an airy laugh, nodding excitedly. “Yeah.”

The Alolan native moved his neck down, planting sloppy kisses on the tender skin of your neck. He tucked his hand swiftly under your shirt, his hand resting on your abdomen. Guzma sat up, wiping his mouth momentarily with his free hand. You let your arms fall against the mattress as he lifted your shirt over your head. “Pants, too, sweetheart.”

You reached down to unbutton your jeans, but he gripped your wrists, holding them firmly against his bed. “Ah-ah-ah. Let ya boy work his magic.” He tossed you a frisky wink.

_Fuck, he’s irresistible._

He moved down at a significantly slower pace than he had been using; kisses still firm and hands still cold, but it was a relatively mellow speed nonetheless. Guzma planted kisses along your collarbones, your sternum, down the line of your navel. You looked down at him as he kissed your stomach, trying not to breathe hard, but it wasn’t your fault that you were ticklish.

After what seemed like an eternity of unrelentless laps and kisses, he adjusted his position, unbuttoning your jeans and zipping the fly down eagerly. You lifted yourself up from the sheets slightly so that he’d have a bit of an easier time to pull your jeans down.

Effortlessly, he slung your pants down, wriggling them off your angles. It was a bit surprising that there was any trouble in paradise here; after all, this was _Guzma,_ a practiced sex addict _._ He got so much ass before he met you that he could unhook a bra and pull off a girl’s pants with one hand behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes, so his struggle was a little amusing.

“Had to wear skinny jeans, didn’t you?” He grunted, slightly amused. “It don’t matter. They make your ass look good.” Guzma tossed them on the floor without looking, “I want you to wear ‘em more often.”

He laid down on his stomach, his head occupying the precious space between your thighs. Ever so lightly, he traced your inner thighs. Reactively, you let out a soft mewl. “Fuck, baby. Your hands are cold as shit, you know that?” You whined as he placed his hands on your legs to spread them apart further. “Please go slow.”

“Shh, doll. Lemme focus.” Guzma snapped the lining of your underwear, rolling its edges down slowly as he pulled them down your legs. You shivered merely at the feeling of his breath against your privates; your heart was pounding _so hard._ You were glad he wasn’t trying to hold your hand or anything, because you had to grip the sheets to absorb the sweat from your palms.

Guzma pressed his tongue gently against your folds, and your body involuntarily jerked in response. He rose his head up, furrowing a brow. “Hey, babe, you’re gonna need to relax, or this ain’t gonna be fun for you. M’kay? Just relax.”

You gave him a shaky nod and he moved his head down again.

Closing your eyes tightly as he began to lap at your slit, you couldn’t help find solace in the contrast between his frigid hands that gripped your legs, and the warmth of his tongue. Moaning and twitching in ecstasy, you did your best to not buck your hips and bash his nose. You didn’t want him to get mad and then stop, because _fuck_ this was a foreign feeling but it was so damn good. He was eating you out like you were his last damn meal on death row.

You could get used to this.

-

Within a month, you’re covered in his marks. Hickies, ligature marks, and small scratches all branded you as Guzma’s property. You were wrapped around his little finger.

School started for you already, but you found yourself calling in sick and even ditching just to be with him. Your school was on Ula’ula, so you were boarded there, thank Arceus - meaning that your mom wasn’t around to see your current state. Did you care that your studies were already off to a bad start? Not in the slightest. While your peers were waiting on the congested PokeRides to pick them up from school, you got to leave in Guzma’s _sports car._ Well, on the days you decided to even go, anyway.

People were talking about you. You barely saw Lillie and Hau anymore, and you were seriously slacking on filling your Pokedex, much less picking up on your island challenge. So yeah, people noticed a change in you. But you could care less. He was giving you all you needed. Guzma loved you, and he gave you lots of shit besides love. Lots of pills to pop, cash to spend, trips around places. You were damn happy.

 

It was Saturday. You were hanging around in his room, just waiting for him to come back to the mansion. You were already high as shit. But then again, when _weren’t_ you high nowadays? Guzma told you to try a new strain of weed he got, and you obliged. But whoever he got this from gave him some pretty stepped-on shit. It made you feel groggy and quite ill. Pushing your bong aside in defeat, you rubbed your temple and let out a sharp sigh.

When you heard the door open, you scrambled to your feet quickly. “Hi, babe,” you trudged over to him, giving him a tired but genuine smile. You opened your arms to hug him but he just shouldered right past you. “Baby?”

Guzma collapsed on his esteemed purple chair, letting out an aggravated huff. “C’mere. Now.”

Without even hesitating, you ambled over, climbing into his lap. He pulled you close gruffly, kissing you hard. You pulled away, caressing his face gently.

“What’s the matter? You seem upset.” You teetered slightly, and cocked your head to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Know those ‘business partners’ I’ve been workin wit’ lately? That foundation? They just screwed us out of a lotta money. We ain’t gettin’ paid for a while, so yeah, I’m pretty _upset,_ ‘n that’s puttin’ it lightly.” he hissed, shaking his head in contempt. “Now we gotta figure out a way to get some cash.”

You let out a drawn-out ‘aawwww’ and showered him with gentle kisses. “You know, it’s late. Let’s go to bed and maybe you’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning.”

“This ain’t about thinkin’ clearly, sweetheart.” He shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead exasperatedly. After a moment, Guzma suddenly opened his eyes, looking up at you. He moved his hands down to your waist slowly, and leaned back, shifting against the cushion of his chair. “Get on your knees.” He said lowly. “Gimme a pick-me-up, baby.”

 _Ugh. Not now._ You let out a soft nasal exhale. You didn’t want to upset him further, but you just weren’t feeling it. That cheap-ass weed was hitting you hard, and in the worst way. “Baby. I’m not feeling it.” You groused tiredly, leaning your head into his shoulder. You tried to stand, but he yanked you back down.

“I ain’t asking you if you were _in the mood._ I gave you an order. Hop to it.”

“G, come on, baby, I’m really high and I-”

“ _I said do it._ ”

You looked at him, stunned for a second. Your brows furrowed angrily; did he not just hear what you said? “And I said _no!”_ You mounted yourself off of him hastily and turned around, stepping down from his podium, pretty pissed off.

“Who the _hell_ do you think you’re talkin’ to?” Guzma lifted himself off his seat, and was level with you in a few strides. He snatched your wrist harshly, yanking you close to him. You tried to flick your hand out of his grip but it was a fruitless effort, even if you weren’t high. “When I tell you to do somethin’, you _do_ it.”

“I’m not one of your little grunts, Guzma.” You spat. “Now lemme go.”

“What did you just say?” He hissed grimly.

“I said _let me go!”_

 

It caught you very, _very_ off guard when he shoved you. You staggered back uncoordinatedly and collapsed on the ground, your head slamming against his dresser, which rattled violently at the sheer force of your impact against it. Grabbing the back of your head in pain, you let out a sharp cry.

“Baby? Baby, are you okay?” He approached you, crouching down, hands cradling your face. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Guzma kissed your nose, and tucked your head under his chin as he held you close. “That was an accident.”

You quickly convinced yourself that he really didn’t mean it. After all, why would he? He was your boyfriend. He loved you so much, and showed genuine remorse afterward. He was filled with immediate regret, and he said he would never lay a hand on you ever again.

All things considered, he still fucked you raw against that dresser later that night.

 

Over the course of the next week, you actually stayed in school all 8 hours of each weekday. What an accomplishment.

Lillie calls you on Friday afternoon. She asked if you’d like to grab some fast food after you were finished with homework or whatever. You said you weren’t busy - which was true for once. Guzma had to cancel your date to pick up some supply from his dealer that night, so you were pretty much free for the rest of the evening.

You took the time to shower, shave your legs, and put on a little bit of makeup, particularly making sure to conceal the hickies on your neck...which took longer to apply and set than your actual face makeup did. You just needed to look alive, as if the past month and a half never happened, and you were still the same old… well, _you._ The same girl who a month and a half ago never would have even _considered_ adopting the bad habits that you clung onto now.

You had to inhale a few lines before you left your dorm in order to function.

Lillie drove up in a taxicab, and you climbed in the backseat with her, wrapping her in a big hug. “Hey, Lils,” you giggled softly, breaking the hug to look at her. “Haven’t seen you in forev- ohmyArceus, Lillie. I see you, girl. That highlighter looks so good on you. What brand is it?”

She let out a delicate, sweet little laugh. _Man, I missed the sound of that._ “Oh, it’s just a drugstore one… I just layered it on a lot. Anyways, dinner’s on me.”

“Sweet.” You sat back. At first, you listened to her babble on about how spectacular of a trainer Sun was, and how far Hau was coming in his island challenge, and how Nebby’s been acting lately. But it wasn’t long before you began to tune out; you grew quite fidgety. You nodded along to her stories, half-listening, and dug around your clutch for your Xans. To your dismay, you realized you didn’t pack your little Xanax capsule with you. You needed at least two every hour to focus if you were trying to act like a civil-fucking-human-being.

 

You dropped your head in your hands, letting out a vexed “ahh, shit”. Lillie suddenly faltered, and paused altogether. “Um, you feeling okay?”

She said your name and you looked up, saying perhaps a little too quickly, “ _What,_ Lillie?”

“Um.. You- you just… Seem a little off. Are you okay? Did you forget something?”

“It doesn’t matter Lillie.” Your words came with venom lacing each syllable.

The younger trainer looked at you with mild concern. “I mean… It seems like you’re-”

“I said I’m _fine.”_ Your voice was heeding a warning.

“...Okay.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the car. You saw the driver glance back at you two through the rearview mirror. _I’m glad it’s fuckin’ quiet. My head is pounding._

“...Uh, y’know, if you want to go back, I won’t mind-”

You slammed your hand down on the side of the door, turning to face her suddenly. “Shut the fuck up! I told you to fucking drop it!” You yelled, your patience finally worn to its limit. Lillie flinched harshly, shrinking back in her seat like a submissive Lillipup. You turned to face the front of the car, allowing irrational anger speak for you. “Pull over!”

The taxi slowly came to a stop along the side of the road. You glanced over at Lillie; she appeared to be in shock, as her eyes were glazed with tears. Her face was quite flushed with embarrassment, and for a moment, you were swept with sudden anguish.

“Fuck, Lillie, I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean.. to..”

You lost your words when you saw her lower lip tremble. She was trying so hard not to cry. And so were you.

You stepped out of the cab without another peep. When you finally make it back to your dorm, you collapse in bed in a flurry of tears.

-

Guzma picked you up early on Sunday morning. He told you that he had a job for his “baby girl”, and that he’d tell you back at the house. While driving to Po Town, you spent the entirety of the trip leaning over the central console, giving your shot at road head. The more of him that you fit into your mouth, the harder it was for him to focus on the road. Needless to say, you were beyond smug at his babbling moans and sudden decelerations. You’d gotten pretty good at this whole blowjob thing.

 

When you two stepped out of the car, both of your faces flushed and his hair tousled, you earned a few awkward yet knowing looks from some of the grunts, particularly the female ones. You wrapped your arm around his as you walked through the mansion, making damn well sure the female underlings knew that their boss was yours.

“Baby,” he laughed breathlessly once you two were safe in the privacy of his room. “You’re _crazy._ That’s why I love you,” Guzma planted a firm kiss on your mouth. You rested your hands gently against his chest, while he was content with gripping your ass. You broke the kiss, lightly skipping to his bed gleefully.

“So, G. What did you say you needed?” You batted your lashes sweetly, sitting on the edge of his bed politely.

“Oh, yeah.” He slung his fingers through his belt loops, pulling his pants up. He ran a hand through his wavy ivory locks tiredly, and stepped in front of you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. “That job. A’ight, so… So you know how we’ve been a little tight on cash since my, uh, lack of a paycheck as of late? Well, we came across a real good find. An old friend of mine owed me a solid and I called it in. Got a whole lot of Hoenn-imported coke.”

You looked up at him innocently, enraptured with interest. “Can I see?”

“Sure. But you can’t touch it or nothin’.”

“But it’s Hoenn-imported.”

He laughed. “Ever heard of don’t get high on your own supply?” Guzma grasped your hand gently and led you to his bathroom. Through the door sat at least 3 kilos worth of cocaine, wrapped tentatively in layers and layers of plastic.

“Holy shit,” you gaped sight before you. He whispered softly, “It’s worth over 575-grand.”

You whipped around rapidly. “Yen?”

“Yes.”

You squealed, wrapping him in enormous hug. Your excitement, however, was short-lived as he spoke once more. “But, uh, we still gotta get into the work you gotta do.”

He grasped your hand, interlocking your fingers. “Look, uh… I’ve been arrested a buncha times. Lost count after thirty-six. And uh, if I’m caught trying to travel past the Ula’ula borders to go to another island, someone wit’ my kind of record is gonna get their shit searched. And I mean, _searched._ Strip-searched, baggage dumped, the whole shebang. But you, sweetheart… You’re a fresh face in Alola, ‘n you’re totally clean. It’s gonna look like you’re just doin’ tourist shit.”

“Wait, what? Backtrack, I’m lost.”

“I need you to carry these drugs to Akala for me.”

 

You blinked. “What?”

“Baby, please.” Guzma held both of your hands, pleading. “If I could, I’d do it myself. But I can’t. Not unless you wanna visit me once a week over at the penitentiary on Poni island.”

You inhale deeply. “Guzma, I love you, but this is asking a lot. What if I get caught?”

“You won’t, baby, you won’t. We’ll set you up in an inconspicuous car, like uhhh, a town car or something. Trust me, you’re gonna be fine.”

“...Okay, G. I trust you.”

“Love you, baby. Knew I could count on you.”

-

You were terrified when Plumeria and another grunt were loading the coke into the trunk of the car they had lent to you. Guzma put some drink in you to calm your nerves but it didn’t seem to be working. The warm whiskey sat unsettled in your stomach, and just seemed to make you feel more uneasy. Guzma told you they were going to do this in intervals, and therefore only packed 1 kilo into the car.

Plumeria waved the grunt beside her away once the packing was done. She slammed the trunk shut, and remained in place, exhaling sharply.

You turned to face her quickly as she said your name. She, however, didn’t turn to face you; instead, she merely glanced over her shoulder at you.

“Look. I know you and I don’t get along. Not tryna say we should, either. But I know how you feel about Guzma. I know you feel like you’re obligated to do all this shit for him, but you don’t always have to say yes, y’know. And this is coming from me. I see the way he looks at you. He loves you. Just… be careful with him.” She turned, and stopped beside you, slipping the car keys into your hand. “Watch yourself, kiddo.” With that, she walked steadily, slowly, into the gates of Po Town.

With a trembling breath, you stood there for a moment, frozen. It was getting late, and you had to get to the ferry docks before the last commercial ship went out. Willing your legs to move, you forced yourself to step into the driver’s side. _Why did I agree to do this?_ You started the engines up, your hands gripping the wheel like a vice.

Following the GPS accordingly, it seemed like you were doing relatively well. The roads weren’t too terribly busy, and for a tipsy person, you had relative control over your driving. As the guidance system announced there was five minutes until you reached your destination, you relaxed considerably.

Perhaps a little too much.

 _Fuck. Fuck._ You could feel yourself drifting off. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you jerked the wheel, trying to stay aligned in the road. You swerved a little too hard, driving into the opposite lane for a moment. You corrected yourself quickly, trying to catch your breath as panic lit a fire in your system. “Fuck,” you panted, eyes wide.

After about ten seconds, you relaxed. It was an empty road. No harm done.

You were startled by a sudden siren whoop and the sight of flashing red and blue lights behind you.

 

“Fuck. _Fuck._ ” You felt dizzy. You felt fucking sick. _What the fuck am I supposed to do?_ You pulled over slowly onto the grass on the side of the road, keeping your hands on the steering wheel. Your breathing patterns were sporadic with anxiety; you were breathing harshly through your nose, trying to figure out what to do. Guzma said there wasn’t a _chance_ you’d be pulled over. “Fuck!” You slammed your hand on the steering wheel, letting out a defeated whine, blinking your eyes rapidly to stem the stream of tears that was building.

You rolled down the window as the cop strolled beside you, shining a flashlight in your direction. “Evening, ma’am.” He gave you a slight nod, and you acknowledged it by giving one back, trying to compose yourself. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Um.. I- uh, I’m just tired, officer. I’m sorry. I was… I’m… I haven’t gotten much sleep, y’know how it goes, I’m a high school student and all, s-so I’m kinda on edge, but I was just heading to the ferry site,” you let out an anxious laugh.

The officer was silent for a moment, studying you quietly. “...Uh-huh. License and registration please.”

With a shaky exhale, you reached over to the glove box, pulling out the folder. Pulling out your purse, you handed the officer your passport as well as the registration papers of the car. The cop mumbled a small thanks and headed to his car to run the information.

Once you were out of his sight, you wiped your hands on your pants, then wiped your eyes. Is this what it felt like to have a fucking panic attack?

After what felt like an eternity, the cop came back to your window, handing the items back to you. “Johto, huh?” He sniffed. You nodded shakily. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sober, miss?”

“..Yes?”

“...Mh. You know, you’re 17. This ain’t Johto anymore. Alolan drinking age is 21.”

“What are you implying?” You furrowed your brows. _Shit. Shit._

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.”

-

You caved the second you failed the breathalyzer. They busted you on the kilo you had, and next thing you knew, you had your first mugshots taken and were sitting in the Akala police station jail. They would have booked you in the station on Route 17, but they weren’t gonna take their chances by arresting the darling of the Team Skull boss in the station right next to their home base.

You were sitting in jail for at least a week until Guzma came to bail you out. Thanks to the amount of dirty cops that ran rampant without the reinforcement from the International Police, Guzma was able to leave your arresting officers a hefty tip to clear your name out before there was a serious sentencing because of the possession.

When Guzma walked you out, you wanted to scream at him then and there. But you waited until you were in the car.

“What the _hell,_ Guzma?” You shouted angrily, in which he turned to face you in surprise. “I was in there for a week! After you said there was ‘no chance’ I’d get caught! What the fuck?” You spat.

“Whoa, whoa, first of all, _sweetheart,_ watch your damn tone,” The Alolan snapped at you to get you in line. “I actually had lots of shit to do. Shit that involved cleaning up _your_ mess! I was the one who just cleared all that shit up for you, didn’t I? And _this_ is my thanks?” He started the car hastily, his anger evident in his movements as he drove.

“I wouldn’t have been in that mess in the first place if you had the balls to have delivered that shit yourself!” You hissed. “Fuckin’ pussy.”

 

He slammed on the brakes abruptly, in so harsh of a manner that your body jerked. He lifted his hand off the steering wheel and smacked your cheek, the collision causing a startlingly loud slap noise. You gripped your face in pain, gasping sharply. Guzma grabbed your cheeks, pulling your face closer.

“Listen, bitch. I don’t know if you’re relapsing or if you’re just plain fuckin’ stupid. But don’t you _ever_ speak to me that way ever again, or I’ll do more than just slap you. Now get the _fuck_ out of my car and don’t even _think_ about callin’ me until you’ve learned your lesson.”

You were fucking horrified. You gazed at Guzma, stupefied, jaw agape. “You serious?”

He let your face go to slam his hand down on the central console. “Of course I’m serious! Get the fuck out!”

You scrambled out of the car as fast as you could, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. With that, he sped off.

You stood there for a little while. He said he wouldn’t hurt you again. But here you were, standing alone, your dignity and your heart ripped straight out of you, a new shiner developing on your face, at 10 PM at night. Things could literally not get any worse.

You crumbled onto the ledge of the sidewalk, wiping your eyes of their tears. You pulled out your phone, doing the one thing that made sense to do right now. The one thing that you were never wrong about.

“Mom? Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. No… no, I’m not okay.”

-

When you made it home, you collapsed onto your mom’s bed, letting out an exhausted sigh as she got you an ice pack. On both the ferry and the car ride, you recanted the whole story between you and Guzma, down to the dirty and the shameful parts you knew your mother didn’t want to hear, but needed to know.

When your mom came back in, she sat beside you, holding the ice pack against your cheekbone. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You were too tired, too worn to cry. All the tears you could spill had been spent.

That wasn’t true for your mom, though. She hugged you tightly, sobbing into your shoulder.

“Why, sweetheart? Why? Why can’t you just come home? Why can’t you just _stay_ home?”

“Mom… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

 _"You look in her eyes; the music begins to play._  
_Hopeless romantics, here we go again._  
_But after a while you're looking the other way._  
_It's those restless hearts that never mend._  
_Johnny come lately, the new kid in town._  
_Will she still love you when you're not around?_  
  
_There's talk on the street; it's there to remind you_  
_It doesn't really matter which side you're on._  
_You're walking away and they're talking behind you._  
_They will never forget you till somebody new comes along._  
_Where you been lately? There's a new kid in town._  
_Everybody loves him, don't they?"_

-new kid in town, the eagles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOHOHOHOO LOOK AT ME BOYS 3 chapters in
> 
> i just wrote a new story yesterday so if any of you like star fox.... you should check it out
> 
> anyways so this the climax of the story, ya boi guzma is showing his true colors
> 
> as always thank you so much for your support!!


	4. Tequila Sunrise

You hadn’t taken the time before to notice the revamped areas of your house that your mom personally designed. You’d been sending her money to help with bills and amenities and such, and she seemed to have spent it well. Where there was once barren walls, brand-new paint and portraits donned the perimeter. She’d certainly cleaned up the place, with new fixations in the kitchen and such. You can’t even remember the last time you were home. Hell, you didn’t even know what day of the week it was. All that mattered was that you were home.

It’d been a week since Guzma just… deserted you. The bruise on your cheek had faded, for the most part, and although you were experiencing intense withdrawals already, your mom was helping you through it.

A particularly alarming set of symptoms was the profuse mood swings and sickness that swept over you in the mornings and afternoons, but you wrote it off as just the withdrawals, and not as… well, _hopefully_ not as _something else._

Sure, your body was suffering, and you had a shiner right on your face... But the worst pain of all was missing him. You really wondered if he’d ever come back. If he cared at all. _I think I fucked up too badly this time,_ you would quietly choke back sobs in the clutches of night. _I fucked up. I fucked up. He’s not coming back._

At the end of that week, you proved yourself wrong.

 

Guzma showed up at your door with a makeshift bouquet of flowers (undoubtedly plucked from your neighbor’s front yard, just up the hill) and a sheepish vibe about him.

“Hey, baby girl.” He said softly, in that gentle tone he used with you late at night when you’d cuddle close to him, eyes half-lidded, almost asleep.

But this was not one of those moments. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t close this door right now.” You snapped lowly. Although a majority of your conscious wanted to just fall into his arms and ride away with him back to Po Town, a small part of you argued against it. After all, he _really hurt_ you. You had to at least be a little bit sensible.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Look. I messed up. Bad. And I’m sorry.”

“Those are pretty words, Guzma. But I don’t see how that constitutes me accepting you back again.”

“Look…” He sighed, and averted eye contact. He looked up at you, and said nothing except your name. He said it with the same intensity that rippled through your body the same way it did the first time he said it, back in Malie Garden.

You inhaled sharply and felt your brow twitch involuntarily.

He continued, seemingly trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “You… I… uh.. You and I are good together. Everyone can see that. And… and I miss you. A lot. I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“But I promise! I promise, baby I promise.” He was pleading, his tone filled with clear anguish and his expression painfully genuine. “I’m sorry. I really am. Please come back.”

-

By the end of the day, you had packed up your things, ready to go. You felt a bit foolish, not running but straight _careening_ into his arms like a Woobat out of hell. But you really believed that he was going to change this time. Your mom was begging you not to leave, she was practically in tears and bonding you in her arms. With sad eyes, you kissed her good-bye and left, glancing back at the house behind you.

The car ride to the boating docks was silent at first. Over bumps and sharp turns, the flowers on your lap would crinkle in their plastic home. Trap music played at a very low volume over his sound system as an attempt to fill the air with substance. After a while, he spoke up.

“Hey. Thank you for changing your mind. I missed you.”

“Mmhm.”

“You know… I have something waiting for you at home.”

“Okay.”

He said your name, and you gave him a slight sidelong glance.

“I want you to know that I really am sorry. I know that it ain’t gonna change what happened, but… I couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you that whole time. It was driving me crazy. _You_ drive me crazy. In the best way.”

 _He’s suddenly strangely articulate. Sort of,_ you thought, giving a chance to listen to what he had to say.

“You are the most important thing in the world to me. I really, really love you.”

You pursed your lips, feeling your face grow hot, your eyes searing with the build of tears.

“I love you too.”

He fell silent, and leaned over to kiss you. You kissed him back.

-

The mansion was pretty empty. Plumeria gave you a look when you came in, one that wasn’t cold or unwelcoming, but it was just... _odd._ It was almost a pitiful look, which was characteristically unlike the pink-haired delinquent. With a snap of his fingers, Guzma had his little grunts fetch for your bags to be brought up to the master bedroom.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Your newly-reconciled man seemed to be treading on eggshells to please you, or at least get back your trust. With a slightly cynical glance, you sat at the foot of his bed. “Some wine would be nice. I have a headache.” Within a moment’s notice, the supposedly big-bad Alolan crime boss was quick to grasp at a red solo cup and headed to his infamous liquor shelves, promptly pouring you a cupful of white wine. Sure, maybe the cup wasn’t particularly sexy, but as long as it made you feel buzzed all the same, it didn’t matter.

Guzma sat beside you, but with a considerable distance set between the two of you. _He’s still nervous?_ You commented inwardly, sipping from the red plastic lip of the cup, keeping an eye on him. “Something on your mind, G?”

He sighed, fiddling with his fingers. “I just want you to know that… I really am sorry. I know that ain’t gon’ cut it but I.. I love you, okay? I missed you so bad… Couldn’t sleep or nothin’. You’re my whole world. I ain’t shit without you.” He scooted a little toward you as if to emphasize his words. “Please stay. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You rested the cup on your thigh, fingers gently tapping the sticky plastic thoughtfully. “You’re gonna have to be completely into this, Guzma. No half-assing it. And don’t ever even _think_ about putting me in the position you put me in a few weeks ago. You know I’m your ride or die, G, but you shouldn’t send your girl forth to do _your_ dirty work.” You said punctually, your words almost cold. And suddenly, you felt the way you did all that time ago back in Malie garden. You stood your ground then and you were doing it again now. And both times, Guzma’s expression cut deep into you like the serrated end of a Scyther’s claw.

The pale-haired man before you closed the distance between you two, enveloping you in a taut hug. “I ain’t ever gonna lose you again. I promise, baby girl.” He reeled back to look you in the face, sweeping a strand of hair out of your eyes. “You’re gonna be mine forever. I’m buyin’ your ass a ring, and we’re gonna get hitched, all that good shit. Not now, obviously, but I promise. You’re gonna be my girl for life.”

You leaned in and sealed his promises for him with a kiss.

 

Guzma pulled you into his lap. You carelessly let your cup tumble to the ground; neither of you cared anyway, because, frankly, the carpet was dozens of different shades from dozens of different stains, so there was no telling what the original color was in the first place. He kissed you gently, a nice change of pace from the rough, sometimes… _interesting,_ let-me-tear-up-your-mouth-with-my-tongue kisses that you were used to being on the receiving end of.

His hands navigated their way down to your waist, where he rubbed your sides slowly, softly, which he _knew_ would just make you melt.

You leaned your neck back, letting him plant intoxicating kisses along the curve of your neck. His steady hands slowly found their way to your bottom, where he began to squeeze slightly. In your heart, there was a feeling - that same fleeting, fluttering sensation in the cavity of your chest where your heart beat fervently. It was like the same emotion from the beginning of your relationship all over again. This man - this strange, strange man - was the only person that made you feel this way. _Ever._ And by Arceus, you were going to be his forever.

He leaned against you, encouraging you to lay back on the bed, head resting against the pillows as you kissed. He ran his hands up and down your sides, mumbling “is this fine?” softly in your ear, to which you responded with a quick nod. The gang leader tentatively reached under your shirt, massaging your breast gently as he moved his mouth down to your neck.

You half-expected him to nip at the tender skin and leave a love bite where once clean skin would be, but instead he kissed you gently, earning a soft moan on your behalf.

You spread open your legs so he could press his groin against you; you couldn’t help but get slightly excited when you felt the pressure in his pants against your lower region. “Are you gonna fuck me like you mean it, G?” you whispered softly, voice seductive as ever. Guzma grinned slightly; “You know it, babygirl.”

Within a matter of seconds, he had your panties off and had nested his head between your thighs. With a steady hand, he massaged your opening, teasing it gently as his mouth was nursing on your clit. “Finger me, baby. Please.” You moaned breathlessly, your hands clamping on his dyed white locks. He slipped one finger inside, then another, moving at a _slooow_ pace to get you squirming.  
  
As he continued to eat you out, of course, came a point where you _just couldn’t take it_ anymore. “Just fuck me, baby,” you whined. Guzma raised his head, looking you in the eye as he sucked your juices off his two fingers, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Someone’s eager.” He husked with a wink.

You looked up at his eyes, not at his groin when he pulled down his pants; yes, this was a very, um… _sensual_ moment, but fuck, you couldn’t get over how beautiful he was.

There was a slight resistance when he started to slowly enter your pussy - granted, of course, it was because you were so tight and he was rather big. Both good things in this scenario, of course. His face contorted with pleasure almost immediately, and he let out a soft grunt as he began to thrust slowly.

You gripped Guzma’s forearm tightly, closing your eyes and just soaking it all in. The intimacy, the pain & pleasure, the sounds of his gentle moans. As the tensions rose and his speed grew faster, harder, deeper, you knew it was going to make for a _beautiful_ night.

-

The unmistakable stench of alcohol is what stirred you awake. You kept your eyes closed for a few moments, savoring the transition between sleep and consciousness. You reached over, feeling if Guzma was there. Surprise, surprise - he wasn’t. With a glum sigh, you arose, rubbing your sore eyes as you shifted over, propping yourself on the edge of the bed. You gazed at him, perched on his makeshift throne, forehead buried in his palm.

“Hey,” you said softly, offering your voice to get his attention. He looked up sharply, his eyes grizzled and dark from lack of sleep.

“Baby,” Guzma slurred, slumping back in the seat, beckoning you over. “C’mere, would ya?”

You yawned, stepping out of the bed and shuffling over to him, barely half-awake. “Come on, G. I thought you were over drinking this heavy.” You mumbled, giving him a sleepy kiss. He laughed lightly at your words, settling you in his lap to get a good look at your face.

“Don’t expect too much from me, princess. I’m a professional alcoholic.” The gang leader leaned forward and kissed your chin. “Go on, get off. We gotta-” he hiccuped, his words barely intelligible. “We gotta start gettin’ ready for that, uhh, _work_ … thing.. I got later.. Some kindahhh…” he paused, as if trying to find the word. “Brunch, or something. I dunno.”

“Brunch? You didn’t-” you started, but Guzma was quick to cut you off by planting another kiss on your lips.

“Hey, babyyy… chill, m’kay? Just go take a shower, freshen up, do what you need to…” Guzma smacked your butt, ushering you to step off his lap. You stood on shaky feet - your legs were sore from last night, after all - and headed to the shower.

After you undressed, you stood in the hot water pouring from the showerhead, letting your tense body relax for a moment. You took this as a moment to reflect - so, Guzma had taken you back. That was for sure. Or was it the other way around?

Your mom was… quite upset when you left home. _She doesn’t think he’s right for me._ You inwardly scoffed. _She’s wrong. He’s my other half._

Another thing that still ebbed slightly at the back of your mind was your previous sickness symptoms back at your mom’s place, and now the sudden bloating. You’d hoped it was merely drug withdrawals but as the days passed by, you grew increasingly worried that it was something _else._

Oh, then there was Lillie, and Hau, and Sun… Had you even apologized to Lillie yet?

You began to cry, and you couldn’t tell the difference between tears & shower water running down your face.

-

Guzma plied you with plenty of coke before you guys headed out to Aether Paradise island. He thought it’d calm your nerves, but instead, it made you even more squirrelly, a side effect of having been off of the drug for such an extended period of time. In a second attempt, he gave you half a blunt and made you put on some makeup so that you didn’t look as coked-up as you were.

You could barely even comprehend what was going on during the ferry ride to the island. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and you could hear yourself talking every now and then, but you couldn’t quite understand _what_ exactly you had said after you spoke. It was like the whole scenario wasn’t even real.

Next thing you knew, you were sitting at a sleek, long white table, a few esteemed Aether Paradise associates sitting on all sides of you. You had a bit more focus now, so you tried your best to tune into the conversation.

“..As I was sayin’, Lusamine,” You looked over at Guzma as he spoke. _Arceus, he’s so beautiful with his serious face._ You smiled to yourself.

“We done gave you all the shipments you asked for. The Pokemon, too, everything is accounted for ‘n stuff. Even got some of my own guys waiting for your call. So where is my money?”

You looked over at the blonde tall drink of water seated across from you. She cleared her throat delicately and spoke with great poise; “Now, now, Guzma. Why do you think I called you here? We here at the Aether Foundation are endlessly grateful for your charity and your assistance with this ordeal. You need not worry; we have your money, of course.” With a snap of her fingers, one of her associates - a purple-haired woman with a particularly large bosom - walked over, two large suitcases in each hand. By the looks of her struggle to hold them upright, they appeared to be very heavy - therefore very much loaded with cash.

You felt slightly queasy as Lusamine and Guzma continued to talk business, therefore tuned out and sipped the glass of water in front of you with a shaky hand. A few moments later, a few kitchen aides approached with plates of the brunch food; and food was not something you wanted to look at right now. Guzma was quick to dig into his meal, bearing no shame in displaying his bad table manners, of course. Elbows on the table, silverware clinking obnoxiously… Lusamine, on the other hand, delicately cut her food bite by bite.

And then there was you, staring at your food with a crinkled nose and an uneasy demeanor. “C’mon, babe. It’s good. Try it.” Guzma gave you a nudge, and you shook your head.

“I don’t feel.. that great,” You mumbled, but listened to him anyway, trying to take a bite. Before your fork could even reach your mouth, you were overwhelmed with nausea, and practically jumped out of your seat. The screech of the chair legs against the floor visibly startled the guests at the table, Guzma and Lusamine included, “Bathroom, I need a bathroom,” You sputtered, and one of the associates was quick to jump up and guide you to the restrooms.

 

You promptly began to vomit into the toilet until your body finally came to a resting point. You sat on the floor, breathing shakily, your throat burning from the acidic bile. A few moments later, Guzma burst into the women's restroom, his rapid and heavy footsteps giving off an irritated aura.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” He whipped open the stall door, staring down at you. “Get up.” He pulled you up roughly by your right arm, and dragged you to the sink as you babbled “I’m sorry” and “I just felt sick”.

He began to clean up your mouth with a damp paper towel, then grabbed a fistful of complimentary mints in the white basket beside the sink. He grabbed your palm and dropped the mints in it, and you avoided eye contact as he began to spoke.

“You really gotta embarrass me in front of my work partners? The fuck’s wrong with you, girl?” Guzma let out a sharp sigh, and turned toward the sink, gripping the edges with his hands and leaning over the porcelain dip. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” he repeated, although it seemed to be more of a rhetorical mumble to himself.

You shakily raised one of the mints to your mouth and followed him out of the restroom, back to the dining table. No one said a word, but you did gain yourself a few disparaging looks.

-

You’d spent the rest of the day thinking. You had a sinking feeling you knew what this was, but you weren’t sure you could come to terms with it. You had ignored it but now it seemed too in-your-face to ignore. So you waited to the next morning to speak with Guzma.

When he lay in bed beside you, sound asleep, he seemed _almost_ more beautiful than he was when he was conscious & thriving. When he lay dreaming, his long dark lashes contrasted beautifully against his skin. His breathing was mellow, his chest rising slowly. His dyed white hair tousled carelessly and his body occasionally stirring as he dreamt. He looked at peace, a stark difference from his daytime self.

You stayed awake all night, half watching him just for the sake of admiring him, and half for planning what you wanted to say the following morning.

It was a regular morning for you two. He woke up horny - per usual - and fucked you, slowly, passionately, still slightly feeling the buzz of sleep. Although this time, you weren’t as into it.

He had one of his grunts grab you both some breakfast Malasadas from the corner shop, and you ate yours slowly, knowing it was gonna come back up later. Guzma was talking about random things, irrelevant things. Eventually, he picked up on your uncharacteristic quietness.

“Baby? Something on your mind?” He gave you a little nudge. You took a deep breath and set your food down, shifting a little closer to him.

“Babe… You know I love you, right?” You said, your voice barely above a mumble.

“Eh? Oh, yeah, I know baby. Something up or what?” His head tilted to the side slightly in confusion. _So cute. He looks like a lost Lilipup._

“Guzma… I’ve been experiencing a ton of things lately. Like, I’ve been puking a ton, and having mood swings ‘n shit, and recently I started bloating… I-I’m not sure, but I, uh…”

“You what?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

  
  
In a perfect world, Guzma would have paused, then wrapped you up in one of his famous Ursaring-tight bear hugs, and cried in joy. He would have showered you with kisses and cleaned up his room and thrown away all the solo cups and half-drunken bottles of booze. In a perfect world, you would see Guzma glow with more happiness than you’ve ever seen him with, and you two would be together and talk about the future, but in a much different light.

But this was not a perfect world.

You watched the color drain from his face, his expression dropping, his dark eyes suddenly clear and awake. He stood sharply, so quickly in fact that he stumbled slightly.

“You what?”

“I.. think I’m--”

The team Skull leader snatched you up, grabbing you by your shoulders and shaking you a little.

“You’re fucking _what?!_ Did you take a test? Wh.. You’ve been fucking drinking! I gave you coke!”

You shrunk back slightly in shock, trying to recoil back but he was gripping you too tightly for you to move very far. “N-no, I didn’t, but I just think I might-”

“Oh, you fucking _think!_ ” In a sudden spur of the moment outburst, Guzma pushed you away, and you staggered backward. “You ain’t pregnant. Stop _bullshitting me._ The fuck do you think you are? Arceus!” He was yelling now, probably waking up the rest of the mansion.

Overcome with emotion as well, you shot back. “Guzma! Stop it! You were the one who kept fucking me day in & day out without protection! You probably took my virginity without one, too, huh? You know I can’t even remember that night? Do you know how dirty I felt after what _you made me do?_ You have no one to blame but yourself, cumming inside me all the fucking time! What did you expect to happen?”

The gang leader turned sharply to face you as soon as you said that. Suddenly, your short burst of anger faded into fear once more when he stormed toward you.

“The fuck did you just say?” He grabbed you by your arm, yanking you a little closer. In retaliation, you pushed him back with your free arm, but he quickly grabbed that one, overpowering you easily. “You fucking bitch. Who do you think you are?” He let go of you, probably to stop himself from hurting you physically any further. Guzma stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door.

You sat on the edge of the bed, shaken, but not too badly hurt. You tried not to cry loudly as to anger him further.

-

You left before he could even wake up from his drunken stupor.

Once you were sure he was sound asleep, around 3 AM you threw your things into a duffel - one of his - and even stole some cash, too. You hurried out of the mansion, but not before Plumeria caught you. She had her hair down - the once vibrant colors were beginning to wash out, therefore her flat locks looked rather dull, especially in the dim moonlight seeping through the shattered windows all around.

“You jammin’?”

You hesitated. “...Yeah.”

She glanced around really fast, then stepped a little closer. You could actually see her face without all that black and white makeup around her face. Looking this exposed, she looked almost sweet, and her eyes looked almost kind.

You flinched when the Team Skull admin put her hand comfortingly on your shoulder.

“Be careful.”

You gave her a nod and went out the door as quietly as you could.

-

Two months flew by faster than you knew it.

 

You went to a doctor a week after you left. You weren’t pregnant, but rather, all of your symptoms were that of someone experiencing liver failure. And you were one of those people. Your constant chain-smoking, coke-snorting, and binge-drinking were destroying your liver entirely. Thankfully, you were in early stages, so you were on the road to recovery, thanks to ammonia reducing medications and your newfound sobriety.

Your sobriety was not the only thing that changed in your life. You changed your number. You changed your hair. You changed your grades. You changed _everything,_ everything you possibly could, just to eradicate any ounce of Guzma that was left in your life. He had came, and he went, and he came again, and then _you_ went. It was a blessing in disguise, really. You knew he was bad for you, yet you clung to him so desperately.

It was almost foolish of you, you thought, but… you wanted to be the one to _change_ him. To inspire him to be better, to grow and mature with you. But it wasn’t until you couldn’t stand to be on the receiving end of his abuse anymore, that you realized - Guzma didn’t _want_ to change. Maybe something had happened in his youth, maybe he’d been heartbroken too many times - but there was some sort of deep-rooted issue within him that prohibited him from moving forwards, only backwards. And as much as you wanted to fill him with your love and devote everything for his benefit, you knew in your heart that it was not possible. In your heart, you knew it was doomed to die from the start.

It hurt though, of course. It hurt _bad._ You cried for days and nights and weeks, desperately wishing he were beside you. You dreamt of him, and it tore you apart. You wanted to give him everything. You would have given him the world, all he had to do was ask. Every fiber of your being demanded you return to him. You were his, after all. His girl, his love, his toy. Guzma changed the entire trajectory of how you saw your life. Even through all the bad times - Arceus know that there were many, many bad times - you saw so much of the good in him, but that by no means meant he was a good _person._ You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but you were smart enough to know better.

 

But the days kept going and the world kept turning and you kept getting better. You touched base with Lillie, Hau, and Sun again - your apologies were quickly accepted, and the three of you did some much-needed catching up. You and Lillie frequently went out on tea dates, whilst you and Hau competed in many battles (the kid was good - he beat you every time). They told you the story of Lusamine and Necrozma, and you were taken aback to hear Guzma was a part of it all. You felt a slight tang of relief to know Team Skull had disbanded in the aftermath of the Ultra Wormhole’s events, but… it left you wondering where Guzma was left now.

By the 3-month mark, you and your mother decided it was best to move back to Johto. You said your goodbyes to everyone, you traveled around Alola one last time, and you packed your things in boxes.

 

The night before you were set to sail off, there was a knock at the door.

And he was there.

 

You opened the door just enough to see his face. Your heart was racing but you did your best to appear stoic.

“You know I have nothing to say to you, Guzma.”

“I know. But please… Just let me speak.”

Silenced engulfed you two for a moment. You opened the door slightly more to reveal the rest of his grim frame. He’d lost a little weight, and his dark eyes had lost their mischievous glimmer. “Look… I know I treated you bad… Real bad. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. But Arceus, I… I miss you. You’re my whole world, you know. When I’m with you, I… I’m a different person. I get a different feelin’ when I’m with you. A-And, y’know, I’ve been gettin’ better, too. I don’t drink no more, and I’m kickin’ it with my parents for now, until I get my own place, obviously. And I-”

 

“Arceus…” You chuckled slightly, shaking your head.

“What?”

“Still… You’re _still_ talking about yourself. After all this time, you’re still the only thing you care about.” You looked him in his eyes, now written with fear.

“No, no, you don’t understand…” His voice cracked as he said your name. “Please. I love you.”

You stared up at him. Each time you heard those words, you never grew tired of it, especially from him.

“I love you, too, Guzma.”

And you meant it.

 

You slammed the door shut.

-

Six months later, after settling back down in Johto, things waned from notifications from him here and there, to only hearing his name once every blue moon, until eventually you didn’t hear from him at all. Lillie wrote you dainty letters every week without fail, and Hau always texted you pictures of his exploits as Alola’s first champion. But Guzma? He was gone. Cut out entirely, as if he hadn’t been in your life at all.

 

Sometimes, it didn’t hurt so bad, and you were able to enjoy things like the crunch of fallen leaves in Ecruteak city and the sparkles on the water at the Olivine beachfront and the taste of Ragecandybars. Some days, you went without thinking of him at all, and some nights, you fell asleep peacefully, dreaming of surfing on the waves of Alola.

But other days - other days, you cried quietly in your room, for hours and hours. Other days, you’d wake up terrified, because you’d have another nightmare of his booming yell. You still flinched whenever someone raised their hand too fast, or grabbed you a little too hard. Some days, you would feel sad, almost missing him.

But you knew that one day, the hurting would go away. One day, you would learn to love again, and you would be confident to say you were happy. But despite everything that happened, you were grateful for what he had given you. He taught you many things. You knew people were with you for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. And after all that you had been through, you still saw light in that brief moment he was in your life.

 

One day, you would be fine. But for now, you were taking things one day at a time, building your own way down the road to recovery & happiness.

And you were okay.

 

* * *

  

 _She wasn't just another woman_  
_And I couldn't keep from comin' on_  
_It's been so long_  
_Oh, and it's a hollow feelin' when_  
_It comes down to dealin' friends_  
_It never ends_  
  
_Take another shot of courage_  
_Wonder why the right words never come_  
_You just get numb_  
_It's another tequila sunrise, this old world_  
_still looks the same,_  
_Another frame_

\- tequila sunrise, the eagles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, babes. Sorry this took many, many months. But I hope the wait was worth it. (":
> 
> Not every story has a happy-go-lucky ending. This is kind of bittersweet, and sadly real.  
> Thank you to everyone who supported and read this fic. I love you!


End file.
